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MOTION PICTURE 




^ / rr L £ Annie 



Beginning a Neiv Series 

WHY HOLLYWOOD? By EDWIN CAREWE 



Also T wo Notable Serials 



THUNDERING SILENCE 

By H. H. Van Loan 



THE NIGHT BRIDE 

By Frederic Chapin 




At The 

Director’s Service! 



A new, fast-moving, 
Portable Unit of tre- 
mendous power — com- 
pletely self-contained — 
for broad SOUND- 
CASTING, makes its 
bid for Movie Fame 
in this issue of The 
Director. 

Now you can sway 
that “seething mob” with 
absolute comfort to your- 
self and your staff. 

Terms of rental on application. 

TUcker 3148 






Volume Two 
Number Three 



MOTION PICTURE 



September 

19 2 5 




Dedicated to the Creation of a Better Understanding Between Those 
Who Make and Those Who See Motion Pictures 



F OLKS, meet the “new” 
Director; new in dress 
and in its increased num- 
ber of pages, and new in its 
added features of interest and 
entertainment value, but, in 
spirit of helpfulness and sincere 
concern for the best interests 
of the industry of which it is 
a part, the same Director you 
have known in the past. 

In the development of the 
“new” Director it is our pur- 
pose, as we enter upon the 
second year of our usefulness, 
to make such additions as will 
serve to render our publica- 
tion of greater interest to our 
readers, and to take away noth- 
ing which has contributed in 
the past to the development of 
the foundation upon which this 
publication is predicated: The 
creation of a better understand- 
ing between those who make 
and those who see motion pic- 
tures. 

I N THE furtherance of this 
purpose, the “new” Direc- 
tor will henceforth be con- 
ducted as a semi-technical pub- 
lication of genuine interest to 
all studio folk, and as a semi- 
fan publication appealing to the 
host of men and women 
throughout the country who are 
seriously and sincerely con- 
cerned with knowing more in- 
timately about the making of 
the pictures they see. 

It is the sincere belief of the 
management of The Director 
that there is a distinct field for 
a publication of this type, a 
magazine, edited and published 
in the film capital of the mo- 
tion picture industry, conducted 



CONTENTS 

Page 



IN THE DIRECTOR’S CHAIR 5 

George L. Sargent 

A TALE OF TEMPERAMENT 8 

George Landy 

CAMERA STUDIES OF SCREEN 
PERSONALITIES 9 

WHY HOLLYWOOD? (A Series) 17 

Edwin Carewe 

CAN THEY COME BACK? 18 

Bertram A. Holiday 

RUBAIYAT OF A STAR 20 

THE BARNSTORMERS (A Series) 21 

Frank Cooley 

“B.B.”— THE MAN ON THE COVER 23 

THUNDERING SILENCE (A Serial) 25 

H. H. Van Loan 

EDIT THE COPY.. 27 

Reginald Barker 

THE NIGHT BRIDE (A Serial) 28 

Frederic Chapin 

WHY A SCENARIO? 30 

Bradley King 

THE MOTION PICTURE INDUSTRY 32 

Traverse Vale 

ANGLE SHOTS 35 

SOLD OUT 36 

Robert M. Finch 

RANDOM THOUGHTS 37 

A1 Rogell 

ART AND THE DRAMA 39 

Clara Phileo Schecter 

NEW PICTURES IN THE MAKING 53 

BOOK REVIEWS 54 



by and for the people of that 
industry, and yet possessing 
neither the limitations of the 
strictly class or trade publica- 
tion, nor the diverified appeal 
of the so-called “fan” maga- 
zines. 

Insofar as it may be possible 
The Director will endeavor 
to steer a middle course between 
these two groups and cordially 
solicits the co-operation of all 
who are actively concerned with 
the making of motion pictures. 

I N THE make-up of the 
“new” Director many of 
the old features have been re- 
tained and in this issue appear 
succeeding chapters of the two 
serials begun in earlier num- 
bers, H. H. Van Loan’s 
Thundering Silence and Fred- 
eric Chapin’s The Night Bride. 

Frank Cooley’s fascinating 
episodical recital of his exper- 
iences as The Barnstormer also 
continues as a distinctive fea- 
ture. Old-time troupers in the 
profession will thoroughly en- 
joy Mr. Cooley’s intimate ac- 
count of those barnstorming 
days when railroad fares to the 
next town and hotel bills were 
so often items of large impor- 
tance, and will live again 
those “good old days” of the 
show business. 

W ITH this issue is begun 
a series of articles under 
the general heading Why Hol- 
lywood ? in which will be pre- 
sented the views of eminent 
directors, producers and players 
concerning the reasons why 
Hollywood is and should be 
considered the logical center of 
motion picture production. 



George L. Sargent 


Published Monthly by the 


J. Stuart Blackton 


Editor 


DIRECTOR PUBLISHING CORP. 


President 


Bernard A. Holway 
Managing Editor 


1925 Wilcox Avenue 
HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA 


Roy Clements 
Vice-President 


Richmond Wharton 


Business Manager 


Entered as second class matter, May 29, 


Frank Cooley 


Tim Crowley 


Secretary- T reasurer 


Advertising Manager 


1924, at the postoffice in Los Angeles, 
California, under the act of March 3, 






1879. 




Subscription Price: $2.50 Yearly 


PRINTED IN U.S.A. 


Single Copies: Twenty-five Cents 

-M 




POSITIVELY LOS ANGELES’ 
FINEST RESTAURANT 



— Appointments of Elegance 
— Service without a Flaw 
— Unequalled, Unparalled Cuisine 



Sunday Night Symphony Concerts 

MAXIE AMSTERDAM and 
his HUNGARIAN SEXTETTE 

DREXEL 4764 DREXEL 4763 



September 

In introducing this series The Director 
is actuated by the sincere belief that here 
is a subject of general interest, the discus- 
sion of which may do much to clarify ex- 
isting conceptions. The views expressed 
are the views of the authors and do not 
necessarily represent the views of The 
Director. 

A DISTINCTIVELY new depart- 
ment inaugaurated with this number 
is the section devoted to Camera Studies 
of Screen Personalities. Here will be 
presented each month interesting photo- 
graphs of the great and near great, of men 
and women of the screen who are achiev- 
ing success in their respective avenues of 
endeavor. Portrait galleries of stars have 
always been considered an inseparable ad- 
junct to fan publications, but in its Camera 
Studies The Director is more concerned 
with presenting people who have a genu- 
ine claim to screen recognition, irrespective 
of the parts they play. 

O UITE in line with the purpose of 
The Director to be of interest and 
value to those who see pictures, as well as 
to those who make them, is the new de- 
partment which makes its bow with this 
issue and to which has been given the 
heading The Directory. This is a serv- 
ice intended to afford to the vast army of 
interested men and women, who are sin- 
cerely desirous of knowing more about the 
making of pictures, authoritative informa- 
tion on specific subjects of a technical or 
semi-technical nature; a place to which 
legitimate questions pertaining to the pro- 
duction of films may be brought and re- 
ceive an answer predicated on first-hand 
knowledge and information. 

The Directory is intended to be, quite 
frankly, an “Ask the Director” depart- 
ment. Letters from readers asking ques- 
tions on subjects pertaining to the making 
of pictures will be published together with 
the answer to those questions by the di- 
rector, technician, camera man or other 
authority best qualified to render a con- 
crete answer. As a matter of general pol- 
icy questions, the answer to which might 
tend to destroy screen illusions and hence 
mitigate against the entertainment qualities 
of film presentations, will be answered in 
private correspondence rather than through 
the columns of this magazine. 

This department is not to be confused 
with the questions and answers department 
conducted by so-called “fan” magazines in 
which questions pertaining to the person- 
alities of screen players are featured. Only 
such questions which deal with the business 
of making motion pictures will be con- 
sidered eligible. In adopting this stand 
The Director has no quarrel with the 
questions and answers departments of 
other publications rendering information 
concerning the individual likes and dislikes 

(Continued on Page 56) 



1925 



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director 



September 




WOMEN’S 

KNOX 

HATS and COATS 



Rossiter 

220-222 W. 7th St. 



(After January 1st at 645 S. Flower St.) 




Volume II, Number 3 



September, 1925 




c Jn the Director ’s Chair 



“Sex Appeal” 

M OST of us seem ever to get further and fur- 
ther away from the fact that while motion 
pictures serve the public as entertainment, 
they never under any circumstances cease to be edu- 
cational. We have pointed out in these columns in an 
earlier issue the reasons for this. It is for the most 
part a matter of photography, as years ago this truth 
gave rise to the phrase, “in your mind’s eye.” The 
great majority of people recall a scene of their child- 
hood or early life far more vividly and in greater 
detail than they can remember a melody that was 
popular in those days. How many of you can fail 
to remember the appearance of a printed page in a 
favorite book of your youth, or the precise location 
of a quotation that comes to your mind? Do you 
remember the picture of “Jack Spratt” who could 
eat no fat, as it appeared in nursery rhymes? 

Following this line of thought, you must agree 
that it is simple enough to withdraw from the hands 
of an immature child a book or magazine that you 
deem unworthy of his probable understanding; 
while, on the other hand, it may be added that you 
cannot remove an unpalatable motion picture from 
the screen of the neighborhood theatre to which you 
and your family are lured by certain insidious but 
necessary forms of publicity. 

The inference must not be taken that the fault lies 
necessarily with the publicity man in this instance, 
because it is up to him to do his bit toward filling 
the theatre by which he is employed. Nor must we 
criticize the inexact billboards for their enticing 
views of ladies’ boudoirs at close range any more 
than we should criticize the circus posters for pic- 
turing a mob of a hundred lions prancing through 



their paces, when we know darn well that the circus 
in question boasts but a dozen. 

The fault rests entirely with that small group of 
men and women who occupy the commanding posi- 
tion of being able arbitrarily to purchase this book 
or play — or that. 

We are not prepared to say whether the great 
flood of semi-salacious films that have been produced 
in the past year and are still embossing our screens 
antedated the greater flood of pernicious and porno- 
graphic plays, novels and stories to be had now for 
the asking. But certain it is that never have our 
news-stands been so littered with as many vicious 
and inane products of modern decadence — if we 
may call it that — as they are now. These stories, for 
the most part, are untrue to life in their depiction of 
the very scenes they attempt to describe. Their 
dialogue is dull, rarely clever, and almost verges on 
the obscene. If the picture is not drawn with suffi- 
cient clarity by means of subtle suggestion and inu- 
endo, such methods of the experienced writer are 
thrown to the winds as inexperience hastens to pen 
a portrait with the most apparent awkwardness as 
he dashes his red ink all over an already dirty page. 

And don’t you believe that these stories are not 
being bought. We know of one famous author whose 
name is a household word in all English-speaking 
countries who submerges his personality and iden- 
tity at least twice a month under a nom de plume, 
simply because one side of his mind has to get rid 
of all the filth to which his brain is unfortunately 
addicted, and with a rare chuckle he cleverly jots 
down a sex story of certain appeal and forwards it 
to Dirty Stories. This man would himself be ostra- 
cized from the decent society with which he asso- 
ciates, and his best sellers, which have found their 
way into our libraries and homes, would be burned 



6 



September 



I X MOTION WfTMU 

director 



in our furnaces and fireplaces, if he so much as 
dared to tinge them with that side of him that is 
Mr. Hyde. One of this author’s books that you 
have read and enjoyed was picturized not so long 
ago and was enormously successful as a picture. At 
another theatre in our city for a small admission fee, 
we could witness on the screen perhaps the most dis- 
gusting exhibition of subtle indecency we have ever 
seen — both written, mind you, by the same man! 

The story of how one producer purchased a cer- 
tain well-known novel is interesting. Passing 
through two Pullman cars on his way to the diner 
on the train on which he was traveling, he chanced 
to observe that seven people held copies of this 
novel. Upon arriving at his destination, he was 
amazed to find two gentlemen seated in the lobby 
of the hotel, their noses buried in the pages of the 
same book. He approached the book-stand to pur- 
chase a copy, but the clerk added further to his 
amazement by saying that she had just sold the last 
one and that she had disposed of more than a hun- 
dred in two days, but that she was expecting more 
tomorrow. Mr. Producer immediately entered a 
telephone booth and advised his office in New York 
to place a large option on the motion picture rights 
of said masterpiece. All of this, if you please, with- 
out having read the book! It so happened that in 
this instance the picture he finally succeeded in pre- 
senting to his public contained few of the elements 
above mentioned that could have aroused unfavor- 
able criticism. But suppose it had been otherwise! 

The funny part of all this is that we in the picture 
business go right straight ahead buying up the rights 
to these unnecessary riots of indecency and translate 
them to the screen with a fair degree of accuracy 
and then squawk our foolish heads off about censor- 
ship. This monumental paradox is only one of the 
few things that is “what is the matter with the 

• Off 

movies f 

Another angle of this unfortunate condition is 
this: Foreign countries, whose trade we covet and 
have hitherto successfully established, have through 
their representatives rejected many of our recent 
films of the type we are considering, in quite the 
same manner as they have rejected some of those 
luscious examples of scarlet debauchery that have 
more recently adorned the Broadway stage. It cer- 
tainly is a laugh when you stop to consider that any 
European country will turn down an American- 
made product because of its indecency! We, who 
are supposed to sit on the top of the world as far as 
morals, education, and the integrity of the great 
American family are concerned, are confronted with 
the caricature of a European thumbing his nose at 
us because of our alleged laxity of morals! And that 
is precisely what we get for teaching untruths about 
ourselves. It serves us right! Can you imagine a 
French Board of Censors insisting that certain cuts 
be made in an American film, written by an Ameri- 



can author, directed by an American director, and 
acted by American artists, because of its indecency? 
That is exactly what has occurred! Thus, in appar- 
ently raising the standard of American imagination 
in pandering to an extraordinarily fickle public, we 
cause our foreign market to rise in arms and stand 
aghast at our present assaults on good taste, good 
manners, and consistently honest thought, for which 
we are supposed to be representative examples. 

We like to argue that the future security of mo- 
tion pictures rests upon the hold we can impress up- 
on the heart of the great American family. If this 
is true— and our newspapers, our women’s clubs, 
and our pulpits are beginning to insist that it is — 
why do we, who are purveyors to the screen, still in- 
sist upon injecting these forms of indecency, be they 
obvious or subtle, into the very homes whose fam- 
ilies we are seeking to lure into our theatres that we 
may thrive? We have never seen a father yet who 
chuckled over the fact that his young daughters read 
shady literature or indulged in illicit enterprises, 
and it is absurd to declare now that one can with the 
gilt of subtlety disguise the unsightly appearance of 
a dump. 

The scourge of this newly coined phrase “sex ap- 
peal,” is certainly going to metamorphose itself into 
a most deadly form of boomerang, if we don’t mend 
our ways. All the beautiful love stories of our pres- 
ent society don’t necessarily have to include untrue 
and wildly imaginative pictures of modern brothels 
to supply the necessary conflict for the drama any 
more than all the beautiful love stories of the past 
have had to depend upon junk-heap settings for 
their beauty. 

Don’t forget that the public has not yet gotten 
over the fallacy of “seeing is believing.” 

The “New” Director 

I NTO the life of every enterprise there comes a 
time when expansion becomes inevitable, when 
it seems that the activity of the past should be 
broadened in scope and limiting barriers leveled to 
permit a wider range of usefulness and service. 

So it has been with The DIRECTOR. 

After a successful year of activity as the official 
publication of the Motion Picture Directors’ Asso- 
ciation, during which we have received the loyal 
and whole-hearted support of the industry of which 
we are a part, the time has come when expansion 
seems to be the logical move. Having firmly estab- 
lished ourselves in the field of local activity, we are 
now entering upon that broader field of national ser- 
vice in the furtherance of the premise upon which 
The DIRECTOR was originally founded: the creation 
of a closer understanding between those who make 
and those who see motion pictures. 

With this issue, The DIRECTOR emerges as a semi- 
technical, semi-national publication of direct inter- 



1925 



director 



7 



est to everyone concerned, however remotely, with 
making, exhibiting or seeing motion pictures. 

In taking such a step it is only fitting that, with 
the increased scope of its activity, its greater diver- 
sity of interest and its wider range of appeal, we 
should appear in a wholly new dress, both as to 
cover and as to make-up of editorial and text pages 
and to treatment of illustrations. 

In this seeming metamorphosis in which The 
DIRECTOR emerges from the classification of official 
publication of the Motion Picture Directors’ Asso- 
ciation to that of an independent, national maga- 
zine, its identity has not been lost, nor even sub- 
merged. It has been a case of addition rather than of 
subtraction, and to the directorial phases of the old 
DIRECTOR have been added features of wider inter- 
est and, we hope, of greater value and service to our 
readers. In planning the new dress of the publica- 
tion it has seemed only fitting that we should retain 
visible evidence of that identity which has been so 
distinctly ours during the past year, and so on the 
cover of this and subsequent issues will appear por- 
traits of motion picture directors who are making 
films and film history. 

In the development of our plans for expansion 
considerable thought has been given, as there must 
be in any business enterprise, to the matter of circu- 
lation and advertising. In order that we may more 
genuinely serve our advertisers, the make-up of our 
pages has been changed from the two-column layout 
of last year, to a three-column layout. With this re- 
apportionment of space there has been a propor- 
tionate reduction in advertising rates and an adver- 
tising service department instituted with a view to 
making The Director more effective as a merchan- 
dising medium to our advertisers. 

With the co-operation of our advertisers it is the 
purpose of the management to make the advertising 
pages of The DIRECTOR show windows for the dis- 
play of merchandise of direct interest and value to 
our readers. As advertising has become the life- 
blood of business activity, so is it vital to the success 
of a magazine as a business enterprise; and we urge 
that our readers “window shop” in the pages of The 
Director and heed the messages of the merchants 
and business houses there displayed. 

No magazine belongs to its publishers alone, but 
to its readers, and, while we may plan and strive to 
create in The DIRECTOR a magazine in which you 
will be thoroughly interested and which you will 
find thoroughly entertaining, we shall succeed only 
to the extent in which we have your co-operation 
and support. In no way can you give us this co-oper- 
ation more effectually than by writing us frankly 
concerning the magazine, its departments and its 
editorial content. 



We of the editorial staff of The Director are 
sincerely desirous of being of genuine service to our 
readers. You can help us by writing us frankly 
about the things you like and the things you don’t 
like. 

You can help us, too, by writing us about the pic- 
tures you see and about the impressions you receive 
from those pictures. This interchange of ideas be- 
tween those who see and those who make motion 
pictures is always of value and in no way can we be 
of any greater service both to the industry as a whole 
and to our readers, than by functioning as the me- 
dium for such an exchange of ideas. 

Undoubtedly there are many matters of a semi- 
technical nature involved in the making of films 
concerning which many of our readers, particularly 
those living at points remote from the center of film 
production, are interested. Write us about these 
matters, send us your questions and let us procure 
the answers from the men and women actively en- 
gaged in motion picture production who are best 
qualified to give first-hand, authoritative informa- 
tion. 

It may be that there will be some questions touch- 
ing on matters which are of such a technical nature 
that detailed answers will not be practical in these 
columns. When possible these questions will be an- 
swered directly to the inquirer rather than through 
the magazine. Similarly, questions touching on sub- 
jects, the answers to which might tend to destroy the 
illusion created in the presentation of the subject 
involved, will be answered direct. But there are 
many questions which may be frankly discussed in 
the pages of The DIRECTOR without either divulg- 
ing what may be considered trade secrets or destroy- 
ing the effect of an illusion by letting you see how 
the wheels go round, and what makes them go. 

As we get under way in our second year we are 
earnestly striving to create a bigger and better mag- 
azine in every respect. In this we have been encour- 
aged by the success which has attended our efforts 
of the past, by the loyal support which has been 
accorded The Director during the first year of its 
existence. We like to feel that our magazine — your 
magazine, in matter of fact — is an integral part of 
the motion picture industry and represents in every 
way the highest ideals of that industry. We are 
imbued with the thought that we, who are, so to 
speak, on the inside and in close daily contact with 
the activities and problems of the cinema world, are 
in a position to be of genuine service to those who 
make and those who see motion pictures. With your 
co-operation we shall endeavor to live up to the 
responsibilities of that position and with each suc- 
cessive issue continue to give you a bigger and better 
magazine. 

Salute! 



8 



®i rector 



September 



A Tale of Temperament 

(Told by Harry O. Hoyt to George Landy) 




X'VE even made animal pictures, 

They’re called ‘the director’s curse’; 

But for hundred per cent, rip-roaring galoots, 
For touchiness, trouble and worse, 

‘The Lost World’ taught me a lesson 
In temperamental folks, 

That made all my other experiences 
Look like a lot of jokes. 




job was to keep ’em together 
And believe me, boy, it was some task — 
It’s a good thing I’m not a drinking man, 
Or I sure would have needed my flask. 

these men were wonderful experts 
And really artistic, too, 

They each knew their jobs — but Oh, ye gods! 
What a temperamental crew! 



was a film director, 

On the set he halted me. 

“You’ve heard a lot about temperament; 
“I’ve met it oft,” said he. 

I’VE written, produced and shot ’em 
Since nineteen hundred and ten; 
I’ve handled exotic actresses 

And stars, more devils than men. 




— it wasn’t the brontosaurus, 

The ‘croc’ or even the monk, 

It wasn’t the human actors, 

Or the sets filled with tropical junk — 

It was all of the various experts; 

We had ’em of every sort. 

And each man held his opinion 
Impregnable as a fort. 








Yet when the picture was over, 

All finished and in the box, 

The love feast we all had together 

Made up for the troubles and knocks.” 



\' V 1 ' /'/ 






©irector 



T HERE’S a distinctiveness about Eric Mayne which makes him a notable figure wherever he 
appears, whether it is on the screen or strolling along Hollywood Boulevard. 





10 



©i rector 



September 




A NEW CAMERA STUDY of Lucille Lee Stewart in which the Stewart family resemblance is 
portrayed to an unusual degree. After a rest period following her work with Weber and Fields 
in “Friendly Enemies,” Miss Stewart is again free lancing. 




1925 



y. i K*s Mt M «i 

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11 




T HE AMERICAN FATHER” is the title often applied to George Irving, since his particularly 
perfect parental performance in Lasky’s “The Goose Hangs High.” After many years as a Broad- 
way player, and director of some forty features, Mr. Irving is now enjoying his successful return to 

the acting profession. 






12 



©i rector 



September 




W HEN Claude Gillingwater left the dramatic stage for the greater possibilities of the screen, 
the silver sheet gained a character actor of brilliance and power. 





192 5 



WtCTION finiHI 

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13 




A M I GLAD TO BE BACK in Hollywood?” asks Francis X. Bushman, and answers his own 
question with another by saying, “Just ask me!” Bushman is not only back in Hollywood, but 

he is back on the screen to stay. 




14 



'director 



September 





1925 



k ~\ MOTION 

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15 





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J X MOTION NllIM 

©irector 



September 




H AVING achieved an outstanding success in “The Gold Rush,” Mack Swain definitely announces 
his entry in the free lance field as character comedian in dramatic productions and has just fin- 
ished such a role in Valentino’s “The Lone Eagle.” 



■ 

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17 



Why Hollywood? 

By Edwin Carewe 





TT7HY Hollywood, indeed? 

\\ That is a question which is being 
asked by various and sundry 
persons in many parts of the country. 

Why should Hollywood necessarily 
be hailed as the Film Capital of the 
World? Why isn’t Oshkosh or some 
other place equally as well suited to 
motion picture production? 

Why, asks Florida, is there all this 
hullabaloo about Hollywood when we 
have the same climatic facilities and 
many features which are so distinctly 
more advantageous? 

Why, asks Detroit, can’t pictures be 
made here just as well as automobiles? 

And forthwith come reports reading 
something like this: 

“Hollywood is Doomed ! Film 
scouts representing certain big produc- 
tion companies are reported to be con- 
sidering local sites for big studio in- 
vestments,” and so forth ad infinitum. 

But still the cameras grind in Hol- 
lywood. 

There are a great many arguments 
which may be advanced why Holly- 
wood is likely to remain the logical 
center of motion picture production 
activity for many years to come, if 
there is any need for arguments on 
such a subject. 

However, a 
frank discussion 
very often will 
clarify a clouded 
situation and so, 
in treating with 
this subject, I am 
going to state 
frankly my own 
experience and 
deductions that I 
have been led to 
draw from that 
experience. 

The truth 
about Hollywood 
as a motion pic- 
ture production 
center, as I see 
it, may be ex- 
pressed in the 
phrase, “location- 
al atmosphere.” 

There are 
many other fea- 
tures which enter 
in the equation, 
of course, but as 
I review my ex- 
perience of the 
past thirteen 



years as director and producer, it is the 
variety of locational opportunities that 



stands out as dominantly as anything else 
as the reason why I prefer to produce pic- 
tures in Hollywood. 

It has been my experience to learn, 
at an expense that I now shudder to 
think about, that Hollywood holds for 
the producer more of the requirements 
and accessories which are so necessary 
to this business, than either New 
York, Florida or Europe, the three 
centers which, in the minds of many, 
are entitled to be termed “legitimate 
production centers.” 

It took me two and a half years to 
learn that New York couldn’t hold a 
candle to Hollywood for “locational 
atmosphere,” studio facilities, equipage 
and convenience. 

The time concerned in gaining this 
wisdom regarding Florida was consid- 
erably less. I spent a year and a half 
there, and, I am thankful to say, an 
even shorter space of time in Europe; 
but in each instance long enough to 
acquire at first hand sufficient facts and 
figures to justify, to me at least, the 
conclusion that Hollywood is the logi- 
cal Film Capital of the World. 



THERE’S A TOUCH OF OLD SPANISH INFLUENCES 
AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. 



WINTER SCENES WITH REAL SNOW MAY BE FILMED THE ENTIRE YEAR AROUND 
IN THE HIGH SIERRAS, WHILE FURTHER TO THE NORTH IS ALASKA WITH ITS 
UNLIMITED PICTURE POSSIBILITIES. 



EW YORK’S greatest asset to 
the motion picture industry 
lies in the fact that it is its 
financial center — 
the money capi- 
tal, if you please, 
— and, of course, 
motion pictures 
cannot be made 
without that very 
important ele- 
ment. 

Outside the 
financial end, 
however, New 
York offers com- 
paratively little. 
The most one 
can claim for it 
is “New York 
Atmosphere.” 

And even this is 
possible in Hol- 
lywood at less 
expense than it 
requires to go 
East and get it. 
A moderate ex- 
penditure, a crew 
of capable car- 
penters, and lo ! 
New York, or 
any portion of it, 
( Continued on 
Page 48) 






18 



f)i rector 



September 




Can They 

Come 
Back? 

By Bertram A. Holiday 



CHARLES RAY IN BATTERED 
STRAW HAT AND FARMER BOOTS 
IS A MUCH MORE FAMILIAR 
FIGURE. 



I N the viewpoint of some critics, “a star 
is always a star.” According to their 
slant on the subject, stardom is unaf- 
fected by the consistency and regularity of 
a star’s appearance on the screen ; that once 
a star has become thoroughly established 
in the hearts of film followers he or she 
dwells there eternally. 

On the other hand, advertising men stri- 
dently claim that there is nothing so short 
as the memory of the public; that the 
fickleness of the human mind is such that 
only by keeping everlastingly at it, may 
popularity be retained. 

All of which bears more or less directly 
on the efforts of certain well-known screen 
luminaries to stage an effective comeback 



period of retirement and appear 
in a story by Douglas Z. Doty, in 
which she will present a “refine- 
ment” of her former roles. And 
Charles Ray, who, temporarily at 
least, abandoned his characteriza- 
tions of awkward, bashful, self- 
conscious adolescence to create in 
Miles Standish a film classic 
which would perpetuate his name 
in screendom’s hall of fame, is to 
return in the type of plays which brought 
him such success in former years. 

And then there is Dorothy Phillips, 
whose retirement, since the death of Allen 
Holubar, is to be broken this fall by her 
return to stardom. Likewise Kathryn Mc- 
Donald has announced that she, too, is 
about to come back to a screen career, and 
Bill Hart has broken his screen silence of 
eighteen months to reappear under the 
banner of United Artists. While Nazi- 
mova, whose retirement after her experi- 
ence with Salome, was broken last year, 
is preparing plans for the production of a 
series of dramatic features more nearly in 
tune with her earlier activities than the 
spectacular productions of recent years. 



on the silver sheet. In fact, this seems to 
be an open season for comebacks. 

During the fall and early winter a num- 
ber of screen notables who have been in 
retirement to a greater or lesser degree are 
scheduled once more to appear on the 
American screen in an endeavor to recap- 
ture that popularity of former days which 
made their names household words the 
length and breadth of the continent. 

For instance, in the forthcoming produc- 
tion of Ben Hur, scheduled for release in 
December, comes Francis X. Bushman in 
an heroic effort to re-establish himself in 
the hearts of his followers. 

Then there is the announcement that 
Theda Bara is about to break her long 



1925 



19 



Can they come back? 

The answer is on the laps of whatever 
gods there be who guide the destinies of 
film favoritism. 

Anyway, the results are going to be in- 
teresting to watch. In some instances it 
would seem that the campaigns for rein- 
statement have been planned with an un- 
usual amount of carefulness — or has it been 
just sheer luck that things have broken in 
what seems to be a favorable manner? 

F OR instance: Bushman has perhaps 

been away from the screen for as long, 
if not longer, than any of those men- 
tioned. In his return he has taken advan- 
tage of an exceptional opportunity — one 
that offers many possibilities — for an ef- 
fective comeback in Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer’s lavish production of Ben Hur. In 
the heroic guise of Messala, he has shrewd- 
ly essayed his return — not as the popular 
hero of former days, but as a heavy of such 
romantic interest as to possess all the charm 
of an heroic lead — with a mighty good 
chance of not sacrificing an iota of his 
former hold on film favoritism and yet ap- 
pearing in a totally different role. 

In such a vehicle as Ben Hur, with all 
the advertising and exploitation which that 
production must inevitably receive, it 
would be strange indeed if he did not stage 
an effective comeback. 

M ISS BARA’S return, however, is 
much more courageous; for, while 
she has in Douglas Doty’s story, 
An Unchastened Woman, a splendid ve- 
hicle, well suited to her capabilities as an 
actress and particularly to the subtle 
changes she is making in the characteriza- 
tions which she will portray, her return to 
the screen is, of course, lacking in the tre- 
mendous possibilities attendant upon such 
a production as Ben Hur. However, the 
fact that she is returning in characteriza- 
tions, “just the same only different,” will 
in all probability engender a good bit of 
curiosity on the part of the theatre-going 
public. 

Her announcement of a “refinement” in 
the interpretation of her character studies 
as contrasted with her portrayals of the 
past, contains an element of interest and a 
certain degree of promise. With her first 
appearance on the American screen, Theda 
Bara created a vogue for the so-called vam- 
pire stories — a vogue which may or may 
not be played out, but in which she cer- 
tainly has had many imitators. 

The significant thing about her return 
to the screen in An Unchastened W oman, 
then, would lie in the fact that, while she 
is making no attempt abruptly to depart 
from the character type in which she has 
become universally known, in her new 
role she is attempting to introduce subtle 
differentiations which will lift her charac- 
terizations upon a slightly different plane, 
and one no less intriguing than the old, if 



Director 



advance reports from the rushes may be 
given any credence. 

Undoubtedly Miss Bara has been wise 
in this decision, for, having so definitely 
created a role which has become distinc- 
tively her own, one is inclined to question 
the popularity of her return to the screen 
in any other type of play. The success of 
her return depends to a certain degree upon 
the hold which she still has on her former 
following, as well as upon the element of 
curiosity which inevitably attend such a 
comeback. 



quite different from those found in the 
comeback of Francis Bushman and Theda 
Bara. 

Other than that he withdrew for a time 
from the regularity of his contributions to 
screen entertainment, and devoted consid- 
erable time to the gratification of cherished 
ambitions as represented by the creation of 
Miles Stan dish, he can hardly be said to 
have been away from the screen, but only 
to have undergone a temporary retirement 
from those characterizations which have 
been so typical of him in the past and in 




Incidentally, it is going to be interesting 
to see how both exchange and exhibitor 
will present her to the public; whether 
they will extrav- 
agantly herald 
her return as 
“the greatest por- 
trayer of vam- 
pire roles the 
screen has ever 
known,’’ or 
whether they 
will grasp the 
possibilities of the 
subtle differentia- 
tions introduced 
in An Unchas- 
tened W o m a n 
and bill her in 
her new type of 
characterizations. 



T HE re- 
turn of 
Charles 
Ray, on the 
other hand, 
presen t s 
angles of 
considerable 
int e r e s t , 



FROM HER RETIREMENT OF SOME FIVE YEARS THEDA BARA EMERGES IN A 
REFINEMENT OF HER FORMER ROLES— THE SAME, YET SUBTLY DIFFERENT. 



20 




AS MESSALA BUSHMAN RETURNS TO 
THE SCREEN IN HEROIC GUISE. 



which he built up a tremendous following. 

No one, least of all Charles Ray himself, 
will deny that his venture into the classic 
depiction of Miles Standish was a mistake, 
and to Ray a costly mistake. Nor did his 
one picture with Thomas H. Ince, just 
before Mr. Ince’s death, really provide a 
suitable vehicle for his peculiar ability. For 
Charles Ray is essentially the interpreter 
of American boyhood — of the bashful, 
blundering, awkward, self-conscious boy, 



©irector 

brought up on the farm or in the atmos- 
phere of the small town. In these depic- 
tions he has established a distinctive type of 
characterization which is wholly Ray, and 
which few, if any, screen artists have 
equaled. 

His return, then, to the type of plays 
which have made him so successful in the 
past possesses many interesting possibilities. 
He has hardly been away long enough for 
the fickleness of the American public to 
have done its damage. The vogue which 
he established prior to his withdrawal to 
make Miles Standish may have passed, but 
it is much more likely that it is but dor- 
mant for there has been but little if any 
serious attempt on the part of his con- 
temporaries to meet the demand for that 
type of entertainment. 

And yet there is an insistent and very 
real demand on the part of the greater part 
of the theatre-going public for the clean, 
wholesome pictures which are so completely 
exemplified in Charles Ray productions. In 
many ways Charles Ray represents the 
highest ideals of the screen — ideals that 
hold old friends and make new ones for 
the films. 

According to Harry Carr in the Los 
Angeles Tunes Preview, Some Pun kins, 
the opening gun in the Ray campaign to 
stage a definite and successful comeback, is 
in many respects the best thing that Ray 
has ever done, not excepting any of his for- 
mer successes. 

And in the same issue he quotes Ernst 
Lubitsch as having expressed “a hankering 
to do a picture with Charles Ray,” and to 
have said that “he has a German play 
called The Simpleton which he desires to 
adapt for Ray’s use.” 

All of which is extremely interesting at 
this time. What the combination of 
Charles Ray and Ernst Lubitsch might 
bring forth offers food for interesting spec- 
ulation ; but contractual difficulties would 
seem to stand in the way of such a develop- 
ment being brought about. 

Whether Ray’s appearance in the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production, A Lit- 
tle Bit of Broadway , now in production at 
the Culver City studios, will affect the 
comeback he is staging as the ideal inter- 
preter of American boyhood, remains to be 
seen. 

In his way, Charles Ray has developed 
screen characterizations as distinctly indi- 
vidual to himself as those created by Chap- 
lin and Fairbanks. Is he yet destined to 
become the uncrowned king of American 
youth as depicted on the screen, and to take 
his place with those other “immortals” of 
the silver sheet whose individuality of con- 
ception has lifted them to planes of dis- 
tinctiveness wholly their own? 

Time and the verdict of the theatre- 
going public alone will tell. 



September 

RUBAIYAT OF A STAR 

Anonymous 

Sleep! For the sun who scattered into 
flight, 

The Stars — and such — who frolicked 
through the night. 

Drives darkness from the world — all par- 
ties end 

When Hollywood is touched with dawn's 
first light! 

Come, empty adulation s cup, the fire 
of Hope is warm. . . . When winds of 
time mount higher. 

The birds of Paradise fly south, to some 
new set, 

And leaves us cold, with nothing but 
desire! 

Whether at Long Beach, or at Paris, Mo., 
W e, zvho know not upon which road we 
go; 

Must realize that fame passes as the rose. 
That withers in the cold of sudden snow. 

Each season brings its beauties new, you 
say — 

And shelves the lot that blossomed yester- 
day? 

Next year the same publicity we knew 
Will start some fresh young comet on her 
way. 

What if the play we’re working on shall 
die 

In two months' time ? What if the dust 
will fly 

When the director meets his boss? Myself, 
1 may be through for good by next July! 

The Public gives applause — and having 
said 

Its say, moves on .. . the Public must 
be fed 

With pretty pictures and with interviews, 
Or else its love for us will soon be dead. 

I sometimes think that every Star, well 
cast, 

Leaves just one thing, one little note, to 
last — 

The Pick ford curls, the Fairbanks smile, 
the feet 

Of Chaplin will live on when years have 
passed. 

And me — when I have gone beyond the 
pale, 

Taking my share ( God willing!) of the 
kale — 

Perhaps they will remember how I danced, 
And that I looked so innocent and frail. 

And, as the light shines on the silver sheet. 
And music syncopates for some new feet, 
Hands will still clap, but there will be no 
sound 

Of Jazz to penetrate my last retreat. 



1925 



f MOTION Mi 1 1 Rf 

■©irector 



21 




SCENE FROM “THE MOUTH OF THE CANON” BY HARRY COTTRELL, AS PUT ON BY THE COMPANY IN 1902. 
HARRY POLLARD, THE DIRECTOR, IS THE CHAP ON THE FLOOR, FRANK COOLEY IS THE MAN WITH THE MUSTACHE 

AND THE GUN IN HIS HAND. 



The Barnstormer 



Part II 

AFTER a poor week in Nogales, we 
r~\ started for La Colorado. The round 
trip cost me $86, which about 
cleaned me, so I borrowed $35 from Mr. 
Marsh, the Nogales manager. I knew I 
wouldn’t need it if we did any business at 
all in Mexico, but wanted to make sure 
we would not have to linger too long with 
the Mexicans. 

We found Mexico awful. I had writ- 
ten Mr. Quiros, the La Colorado man- 
ager, requesting him to engage a room for 
my daughter, wife and myself. He met 
me on our arrival and conducted me to our 
room. The floor was good old earth, the 
windows wide open, with a crowd of Mex- 
ican children peering through ; flies by the 
millions, and a half-grown Plymouth Rock 
rooster with about seven feathers and a 
very red skin, scratching the earth in the 
center of the room. I complained to Qui- 
ros, who was surprised, and said it was 
the very best to be had in town. 



By Frank Cooley 

I was not convinced and went “room- 
hunting” alone, finding one over the drug 
store, furnished with two canvas cots, four 
sheets and one pillow, and that was all. 
I found a coal oil can which served as a 
water pitcher. The druggist loaned me a 
tin wash-basin, and I found a small mirror 
in the wardrobe trunk that was not in the- 
atrical use. The room was clean, however, 
and had a board floor, while upstairs the 
members of the company found accommo- 
dations at the hotel, where the proprietor, 
by placing two and three in a room, was 
finally able to lodge them. 

We found the theatre flooded so we 
couldn’t show that night, but the follow- 
ing night promised big business as Thurs- 
day was pay day in the mines for the Mex- 
icans, and Quiros promised their money 
would soon be ours. The town boasted of 
no street lamps and ordinarily real dark- 
ness came with night, but Thursday 
booths, lighted by torches, were in evidence 
everywhere, some selling sweet cakes and 



candy, others equipped with different kinds 
of catch penny devices. 

Our audience was a little larger that 
night but not much; all seemed to have 
been drinking, more or less. Quiros car- 
ried out the little trombone player during 
the second act, drunk as a lord and asleep. 
The Mexicans were not satisfied and re- 
fused to leave after the performance and 
demanded more singing and dancing. 
There seemed nothing to do but accommo- 
date them. This so pleased them that a 
delegation waited on us after the show and 
invited us all to have a drink. 

Friday night the entire orchestra was 
drunk and Mrs. Cooley played the piano 
for which Quiros paid her ten dollars, 
Mex. I had a canvas hung around the 
piano so she could slip out while the show 
was on and play without being seen, but 
I forgot to cover from the piano to the 
floor, so when she was playing, the Mexi- 
cans on that side of the house paid very 





?1 



T’N Mono** wntw 

©irector 



September 



little attention to the performance but 
pointed to her dress and speculated as to 
which actress was the musician. Every 
time she changed her dress a new discus- 
sion started. 

Saturday night was the poorest of the 
week and the whole town seemed to be 
drunk. We were to leave for the U.S. 
late Sunday afternoon so we decided to 
give a matinee at one o’clock, a vaudeville 
program. I was down for a six-round go 
with two of the boys, I continuous, the 
boys alternating, so they would have a 
three-minute rest between rounds. The 
wife and self were invited to have lunch- 
eon with the superintendent of the big 
Rothschild’s copper mine, where things 
were so pleasant that the matinee was well 
under way when we got there. The box- 
ing idea had evidently caught on, as the 
place was well filled. Joe was on the door. 
I guess the boxing pleased better than the 
show, though the twenty-eight dollars he 
turned over to me was about one-third 
of what I judged the house 
to be. I said nothing, but 
thought a lot. 

Matinee over, we hurried 
to the depot accompanied by 
several of the boys from the 
mine, who really hated to see 
us go. While waiting for the 
train, which was a little late, 

I heard one of the actors ac- 
cuse Joe of holding out on 
the matinee. The same 
thought was working in my 
mind too, so when Joe threat- 
ened to punch the boy’s nose 
I immediately remarked that 
if there was to be any punch- 
ing done I was in on it. 

Joe stuck out his jaw and 

remarked : “The you 

will!” 

The temptation was too 
great. I put him down six 
times before the boys from 
the mine caught me, begging 
me to stop, declaring that I 
would be arrested and locked 
in an old abandoned tunnel, the town’s 
best jail, if I didn’t. While they held me 
Joe drove two hard rights to my face be- 
fore he could be stopped. 

1 he train came along and we said good 
by to El Colorado and a lot of good scouts. 
I for one was glad to be on the way to 
the U.S., though I learned later that there 
was at least one place worse than Mexico, 
as far as I was concerned, in our own 
country; yes, in the must boasted Cali- 
fornia, too. We stopped a while at No- 
gales, long enough for me to fire Joe — and 
hire him again — pay Mr. Marsh his thirty- 
five that I had not needed, and then pro- 
ceed to Bisbee. 

We found a town of about five thousand 
people, no sewers and no drinking water. 

1 he town was built over a gulch and they 
depended on water spouts in the mountains 



to flush the gulch where they allowed all 
their sewage to accumulate. The water 
spout was long overdue and as a result 
there were over one hundred and fifty 
cases of typhoid fever. We had to cross 
the gulch by way of a bridge to reach the 
theatre and 
the smell was 
something aw- 
ful. Before 
the first week 
was finished 
several of the 
company com- 
plained of 
sickness — my 
little daughter 
was one and, 
from a chub- 
by little girl, 
was fast be- 
coming a very 
thin one; 
while my wife 




FRANK COOLEY, THEN AND NOW. 

could barely leave her room. 

The boys were drinking — I had to take 
charge of one, put him to bed, took away 
his pants and locked him in his room, but 
a little later I caught him going down- 
stairs clad in a shirt and shoes. I suc- 
ceeded in getting him back in his room but 
had to watch him for the rest of the day. 

Bisbee didn’t do much for us financially; 
the terrific heat was probably responsible, 
as the show was now in good working 
order. We were there ten nights, then 
started for Tucson. We had to wait over 
one night at Benson and concluded to show 
there. 

We rented the town hall for five dol- 
lars. There was no stage, so we arranged 
our scenery on the floor, borrowed some 
lamps for footlights, placing a cracker box 
in front of each lamp. A lot of work and 



at twenty minutes of nine not a soul in 
the house. I was “made up” with a long 
coat on and “tending door,” pretty well 
disgusted. About nine o’clock I noticed 
lights in different directions bobbing about 
but all coming nearer. Suddenly families 
of five and more began to 
appear out of the darkness 
and make their way to the 
door. Business at once be- 
came brisk and by the time 
I had to make my appear- 
ance on the stage, I had 
ninety-eight dollars in my 
pocket. This was the larg- 
est amount we had ever 
played to and Joe probably 
got a few dollars for him- 
self, as he took the door 
when I left. 

We started for Tucson 
next morning feeling pretty 
good. There Mowrey met 
us at the train decked out 
in a new hat, shirt, trousers 
and shoes. We opened to 
sixty-two dollars — it seemed 
that we just couldn’t get out 
of the sixty-dollar class for 
an opener and Mowrey had 
drawn twenty dollars in 
spite of my warning and his 
own promises. After de- 
ducting what he had drawn I received 
twenty dollars for my share. He also had 
accumulated a very nice bill at the hotel, 
so it took almost two night’s receipts for 
him alone. We needed money badly and 
as there was no great value in Mowrey’s 
work, I let him go, this time for good. 
He returned to Phoenix. 

We were billed to play Sapho in Tucson 
and started rehearsal. My leading lady 
“struck” for money to buy clothes for the 
part of Sapho; money I didn’t have, so I 
cast her for the aunt and put Mrs. Cooley 
in Sapho. This was the wife’s first long 
part and scared her considerably but she 
“got by” in very good shape. Joe, who 
attended to the newspapers, was quite par- 
tial to our leading lady and on our first 
performance of Sapho, which, by the way, 
was the best first performance we ever 
gave, he wrote a very sarcastic notice about 
Mrs. C. “biting off more than she could 
chew.” This was too much, as I figured 
she had saved the day, for Sapho gave us 
by far the biggest house of our stay and 
later proved our banner drawing card al- 
ways. Joe was sent to console Mowrey in 
Phoenix, and luck began to smile on us at 
last. 

At the end of our Tucson stay, I again 
had a bank roll of one hundred and sixty 
dollars after all bills were paid and the 
company was allowed to draw a little. Our 
next stand was Phoenix where we were to 
play a return date of one week. As most 
of the company assembled in the office of 
the Reed Hotel, Tucson, about to start 
(Continued on Page 44) 



1925 



©irector 



23 




I N this “infant industry” of ours to say 
that a player, director or writer served 
_ his apprenticeship or gained his early 
film experience with the old Biograph 
company is synonymous with saying that 
that individual is a charter member of the 
Old-timers’ Club, and ha6 in truth grown 
up with the industry. 

For it has been from the prop rooms, 
the camera stands and the rank and file of 
the old Biograph Company, one of the 
pioneer production units of the defunct 
General Film Company, that many of our 
most notable film luminaries have come. 
It was from that organization that the 
screen world received its David Wark 
Griffith, its Mary Pickford, its Norma 
Talmadge, its Blanche Sweet, and a host 
of the bright lights of the silver sheet. 

And it was from that old organization 
that William Beaudine — better and more 
universally known in the motion picture 
world as “Bill” Beaudine — emerged to be- 
gin his steady climb up the ladder of fame 
and success. 

The story of his career is reminiscent of 
one of Horatio G. Alger’s yarns of the 
newsboy who became president; for “Bill” 
Beaudine began, not, as so many directors 
have begun, as an actor before the camera, 
but in the much less conspicuous position 
of assistant property man — perhaps it 
might be phrased, with more literal appli- 
cation of truth, as assistant property boy. 
Both the industry and “Bill” Beaudine 
were young in those days. 

And despite the imposing array of old- 
time production units with which he has 
been associated, and the long and varied 
experience he has had in the motion picture 
industry, no one can dub William Beau- 
dine an old man and get away with it. 
Not when the birth records of the City of 
New York show him to have been born in 
that city in 1892; from which mental arith- 
metic deduces the fact that he is — well, 
one of the youngest directors in the game 
as well as one of the biggest. 

In the lowly position of assistant prop- 
erty boy “Bill” Beaudine had plenty of 
opportunity for using his eyes and the 
events of the past few years afford ample 
indication that he did so. But that didn’t 
keep him from being a bang-up good assis- 
tant property boy as he must have been to 
have impelled Mickey Neilan to bring him 
out to the Coast with him as his assistant. 



And it is a matter of justifiable pride on 
“Bill” Beaudine’s part that he has not 
only grown up with the industry but has 
grown up with Mickey Neilan. 

Events moved rapidly in those old days 
and the opportunities for advancement 
were much more frequent than they are 
today. He had not been on the Coast for 
so very long before an opportunity came 
for him to wield the director’s megaphone 
on his own on the Triangle lot. 

That was some nine years ago and for 
several years “Bill” Beaudine confined his 
directorial activities to mirth-makers, wind- 
ing up his comedy direction at the Christie 
studios where he produced, among others, 
Rustic Romeo, Mixed Drinks, Pass the 



Apples, Eve, Watch Your Step, and All 
Jazzed Up. 

Forsaking straight comedy for drama 
and comedy drama, he made, among his 
early dramatic productions Penrod and 
Sam, for First National, later making A 
Self-made Failure for the same organiza- 
tion. Two years ago he Avas signed on a 
long-term contract by Warner Brothers, 
for whom he has already produced The 
Narrow Street, W andering Husbands, 
Daring Youth, The Broadway Butterfly, 
Cornered and Boy of Mine. 

When Mary Pickford decided to make 
Little Annie Rooney she picked out “Bill” 
Beaudine as the logical man to direct and, 
through the courtesy of Warner Brothers, 



24 



©irector 



September 




MISS PICKFORD MEETS WILLIAM BEAUDINE, JR., AS THE YOUNG MAN WHO WILL BE HER DIRECTOR IS YEARS FROM NOW. 



arrangements were made whereby he was 
loaned to the Mary Pickford Company for 
that picture and was retained for Scraps, 
which is now entering production. Upon 
the completion of these two pictures he is 
scheduled to return to Warner Brothers. 

From the day when Mickey Neilan took 
him under his wing “Bill” Beaudine’s rise 
to the top of the ladder has been steady and 
sure. Today he is sitting on the world, 
ranking among the foremost motion pic- 
ture directors in the business, president of 
the Motion Picture Directors’ Association, 
and recognized as one of the dominant fig- 
ures of the industry. 

But there are other sides to William 
Beaudine than just being a bang-up good 
director and leading light of the film 
world. 

In the radio world he is almost equally 
as well known and there are hosts of radio 
fans throughout the country who know 
him as “B.B.” and as announcer for KFI 
and for KFWB. Radio has in fact be- 
come more than a keen delight with him; 



it has become a hobby in which he in- 
dulges whenever opportunity permits. 

And then there is the solid, substantial 
citizen side — the phase of William Beau- 
dine’s daily life which is less known, his 
interest in civic affairs, his activity in pro- 
moting the best interests of Hollywood. 

William Beaudine has made money in 
pictures and has invested that money in 
Hollywood. All his interests are here. In 
addition to real estate investments he is 
identified with several Hollywood business 
firms and keeps closely in touch with their 
activities. 

Such a man is William Beaudine, the 
man who appears on the cover of this issue 
of The Director, and, incidentally, the 
first director whose picture has so appeared. 



To Use Technicolor Process 

P LANS of the Douglas Fairbanks Com- 
panj' to produce The Black Pirate in 
colors are being watched with much in- 
terest. Just how extensively the techni- 



color process will be used has not yet been 
determined. Preliminary experiments in 
this respect, according to statements from 
the Fairbanks lot, have not proved con- 
clusive and further experimenting is still 
under way. That at least a part of the 
production will be in color seems certain, 
however. 

The probabilities of color photography 
being used has presented new problems in 
the selection of the cast, particularly in 
the selection of the leading woman. Some- 
thing like one thousand applicants were 
considered for the part. Not only was 
there the peculiar fitness for the role, 
which Doug has insisted upon, to be con- 
sidered, but also the applicant’s ability to 
register in color as well as in black and 
white. Consequently, in addition to the 
usual screen test, there was a color test 
to which the girls who had qualified on 
previous tests were subjected. 

Final selection brought Billy Dove the 
coveted honor. 



1925 



JpV Mt»TX*r» PM 1 l"U 

director 



25 



Thundering 

Silence 

A Novel by H. H. Van Loan 



What Has Gone Before 

F OR two years Howard Chapin, an 
ex-convict, has been taking the place 
of John Morgan, Los Angeles banker 
and clubman, in the business and social 
w’orld. At midnight, April 8, the strange 
pact expires. Morgan appears at the ap- 
pointed hour in the role of a derelict and 
informs Chapin that he has no desire to 
return to his former existence. During 
his wanderings he has found the woman he 
loves and he is going to return to her. 
Chapin learns that Mrs. Morgan, who has 
been on a world voyage, is returning the 
next day. He is shown her photograph by 
Morgan, and for the first time in his life 
his admiration is aroused for one of the 
opposite sex. He now realizes the futility 
for a continuance of the deception. He 
cannot go on with it; he will not deceive 
her. 

Chapin has paid every debt left by Moi- 
gan when the latter went away, and has 
accumulated $150,000 in cash. Morgan 
learns where the money is hidden and takes 
it. Chapin wants to know what is going 
to happen to Mrs. Morgan, whereupon 
Morgan informs him that his life is in- 
sured for $200,000 and that Morgan is 
better off dead than alive. John Morgan 
is going to die that night. And, Chapin 
is Morgan! Thereupon, Morgan com- 
pels Chapin to take a revolver and retire 
to the den, for the purpose of committing 
the suicide of Morgan. 

Meantime “Big Red” McMahon and 
his gang of crooks are worried over the 
prolonged absence of “Spider” Kelly, who 
has gone out to “pull a job.” A little later 
the police are called to the Morgan resi- 
dence to investigate the financier’s death, 
and decide it is a clear case of suicide. 
However, Herbert Spencer, a police re- 
porter on The Examiner, does not agree 
with the police theory. The Examiner 
“scoops” the other papers and Spencer goes 
out to make a thorough investigation. “Big 
Red” and his gang are surprised upon 
learning of the death of Morgan, and they 
are of the opinion that “Spider” Kelly 
double-crossed them and made a getaway 
with the fortune. 

Meantime, The Empress of India is ap- 
proaching San Pedro from the Orient and 



among her passengers is Claudia Carlstedt. 
She is overcome as she reads a wireless 
bulletin announcing the death of Morgan. 
When the steamer docks, a derelict boards 
the ship and goes to her cabin. She opens 
the door and as she stares in amazement 
at the man she exclaims, “John!” With 
that exclamation she throws herself into 
the man’s arms. Claudia faints and the 
man places her on a divan and revives her. 
She is confused and bewildered, for she 
believes the man is John Morgan. The 
stranger informs her that Morgan is really 
dead and that he was murdered the night 
before. 

He warns her that she must not go to 
the Morgan residence, and when she asks 
him for an explanation he calmly tells her 
that he is Howard Chaoin. He adds that 
they must not be seen leaving the steamer 
together, and gives her an address where 
he instructs her to go immediately and 
where he will join her presently. Thev 
are impressed with each other and each 
is wondering what role the other is playing 
in this baffling mystery. 

Later, a Japanese gardener finds the 
body of a slain man along the Ventura 
highway, which is identified by Detective 
Aulbert as the crook, “Spider” Kelly. 
Meanwhile, The Examiner staff is won- 
dering what has happened to Spencer, who 
has strangely dropped out of sight. At 
the same time, “Big Red” McMahon’s 
gang have learned of Kelly’s death and 
they believe their chief has carried out his 
threat to kill Kelly. But, at the moment, 
“Big Red” enters, and much to the surprise 
of all, denies any knowledge of the crime. 
Just then Detective Aulbert enters and 
asks “Big Red” the name of the man who 
killed the “Spider.” “Big Red” professes 
ignorance, and Aulbert is inclined to be- 
lieve him and is about to leave, when the 
door suddenly opens and there, to the great 
surprise of the gang, stands “Spider” Kelly 
on the threshold. 

In the meantime, Spencer is being held 
a prisoner in a shack on the outskirts of 
San Pedro. He overpowers the sentry and 
makes his escape and dashes towards Los 
Angeles. 

Chapin learns that Claudia did not go 
to the address he had given her when they 



parted at the steamer, and he is wondering 
what has happened to her when he receives 
a message, apparently from Mrs. John 
Morgan, urging him to come to the Mor- 
gan residence at once. Deeply mystified, 
Chapin starts for the Morgan home. 

Chapter IX 

T WENTY minutes later, Chapin 
dismissed his taxi in front of the 
Morgan residence on South Hobart 
Boulevard and briskly made his way up 
the stone steps to the front entrance. As 
he rang the bell he glanced a little ner- 
vously towards the street, for he realized 
he was taking a desperate chance in com- 
ing back here. The neighborhood seemed 
deserted, for it was late ; and except for an 
occasional light along the street, the entire 
boulevard seemed divested of life. But 
he recalled there never seemed to be much 
activity here. The residents were wealthy 
and the majority of them divided their 
time between Del Monte, Coronado and 
Palm Beach, and when not at one of these 
fashionable resorts they could be found on 
the sands at Biarritz, Deauville or Monte 
Carlo. These beautiful homes were hardly 
more than mere addresses for the reception 
of mail. 

These thoughts flashed through his mind 
as he waited for some response to the bell. 
But none came. He rang again and waited. 
After a reasonable wait, he tried the door 
and found it unlocked. Chapin was a 
little surprised at this, and he pondered a 
moment and then he slowly opened the 
door and entered. He paused just inside 
the threshold, and after closing the door, 
leaned against it and gazed around the 
spacious hallway with considerably curi- 
osity. It was quite; in fact, absolute si- 
lence reigned. A slight chill sped down 
his spine for an instant, but he was able 
to rid himself of it almost immediately 
and to supplant it with a feeling of secur- 
ity. Then he moved slowly away from 
the door and walked towards the center 
of the hallway. To his right was a large 
entrance leading into the library. The door 
was open and he was conscious of an un 
comfortable feeling as he glanced into the 
darkened room. He turned and looked 
towards the room opposite. It was the 
drawing room and he discovered it to be 
flooded with light. He stepped to the 
doorway and looked inside. The room 
was apparently deserted, and he strolled 
across the threshold and paused near a 
table in the center and lighted a cigarette. 
Then, as he took a deep draught he stud- 
ied his surroundings more closely and took 
a mental inventory of the place. Every- 
thing seemed to be the same as when he 
had left it, from the big velvet drapes 
which hung before the French windows to 
the heavy Italian tapestry which adorned 
the south wall. There was an atmosphere 
of precision and neatness about the room 
which had been established years before by 
Morgan and maintained by Chapin during 



26 



the time he had portrayed his unique role. 
During his brief absence nothing had been 
changed ; the room seemed to have been 
ignored. 

He strolled over to the mantelpiece, on 
which rested a clock of Italian marble. It 
was a beautiful piece of workmanship with 
a face of solid gold. He discovered it was 
going, and its hands registered the time as 
being exactly a half hour past midnight. 
He glanced at his watch and it agreed 
with the clock. As he calmly put his watch 
back into his pocket he smiled. Strange 
that he hadn’t noticed that clock before. 
It was the only thing that broke the in- 
tense silence and its tick-tick-tick-tick 
seemed thunderous now. It also reminded 
him that someone must have been here 
since he left, for it had been one of Rick- 
ett’s duties to wind that clock every morn- 
ing precisely at eight. This also recalled 
to him that he had not seen Ricketts. The 
old butler had always been so patient and 
loyal. Hours had meant nothing to him, 
and he could not be bribed into shirking a 
single item of the day’s routine, which usu- 
ally started at seven in the morning and 
continued until such hour as Chapin was 
ready to retire. 

It was quite evident that Ricketts was 
not a member of the household any longer, 
or the door would have been locked and 
he would have thrust his head into the 
room at least a half dozen times to make 
certain the guest was comfortable. For 
Ricketts worried about every guest, once 
he had crossed the Morgan threshold, and 
Ricketts never rested until he had left. 
Peculiar old codger was Ricketts. 

According to the newspapers, the poor 
old butler had received quite a grilling at 
the hands of the police. From the pub- 
lished accounts, it looked as though they 
might have even been a little suspicious of 
Ricketts. But one look at Ricketts’ honest 
old face would convince even the most 
casual observer that he was the personi- 
fication of goodness. However, the police 
suspect everybody. 

Chapin had dropped into a big easy 
chair as he pondered over these things and 
waited, as his gaze studied the floor. 

Suddenly he became aware of another 
presence, and as he slowly lifted his eyes 
and looked toward the entrance he discov- 
ered Claudia standing on the threshold of 
the drawing room. He was momentarily 
startled as he beheld her tall, majestic 
figure and then he rose and bowed slightly 
as he calmly faced her and waited for her 
to speak. 

She was radiantly beautiful, in a cling- 
ing black velvet gown which emphasized 
her perfectly molded form and accentu- 
ated her sensuousness. If she had labored 
a considerable time over her toilette in 
order to arouse his deepest admiration, her 
efforts had not been in vain, for as he 
feasted his eyes upon her he realized again 
at this, their second meeting, that she was 
the most exquisite creature he had ever 



T MOTto* nruu 

‘director 

seen. She was voluptuous . . . divine! 
She was one of those women for which 
men would make tremendous sacrifice. Un- 
doubtedly there were men who would en- 
dure great adversity to live for her, and 
others would willingly throw their lives 
at her feet, for her to trample on. And 
yet, while hers was apparently a cold, 
worldly beauty, Chapin seemed to discover 
behind it a peculiar charm and refinement 
which, combined with a most bewitching 
personality, that succeeded in securing his 
interest. 

Claudia knew he was pleased with her. 
She saw it in his eyes as she approached, 
and pausing a few feet from where he 
stood, extended one hand. She was fur- 
ther convinced as she felt a slight trem- 
bling of his hand as he grasped hers and 
held it for a moment. It was her busi- 
ness to study these things, for she had been 
endowed with nature’s greatest gift to 
woman — beauty. And from that day when 
she had first discovered how generous na- 
ture had been to her, she had not over- 
looked the enormity of the gift as an asset. 
Naturally, for such a woman, life is little 
more than a series of romances and adven- 
tures, with each one more interesting than 
the last. 

And so, with a faint suggestion of a 
smile, she looked up at Chapin and said : 
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Then, 
after glancing at the clock, she added: “I 
hardly realized it was so late.” 

But Chapin dismissed any attempt at 
apology as he raised a protesting hand and 
remarked : 

“My life seems to have suddenly been 
divested of any routine, and hours mean 
very little to me at present.” 

She nodded prettily and then motioned 
him to sit down again, after which she 
sank down on the divan near him and 
leaned back among the silken pillows. Put- 
ting her hands behind her head, she stud- 
ied him silently for a moment. Chapin 
was conscious of her scrutiny although he 
pretended to be toying with a book-end as 
his arm rested on the table. Finally he 
looked at her and said : 

“You didn’t keep the appointment, as 
we had arranged.” 

Claudia kept her gaze fixed on him as 
she shook her head and answered : 

“I couldn’t . . . After serious consid- 
eration, I made other plans.” 

He nodded thoughtfully for a moment, 
after which he met her gaze again. “Do 
you think you have acted wisely in coming 
here ?” 

Claudia nodded and smiled faintly, but 
preferred to let him continue. She had 
not long to wait, for Chapin leaned for- 
ward and with considerable sternness, re- 
minded her w r ith graveness: “You are run- 
ning a great risk. The police are not 
going to close this case immediately. It’s 
merely a question of hours before they 
learn that John Morgan was murdered, 



September 

and when they do, all of us will be in 
great danger.” 

Her countenance took on a challenging 
look as she frowned a little and said : 

“Others may have fears, but I have 
none. I w^as not here when the crime was 
committed. I was aboard The Empress of 
India, at sea.” Then, after a slight pause, 
she stared at him and added: “I can prove 
that, Mr. Chapin.” 

He slowly nodded. She spoke the truth. 
The police would never entertain any sus- 
picions of her being directly connected with 
the crime. Of this much he was certain. 
But one word from him and she would 
have to do considerable explaining to both 
the police and the press, and the explana- 
tion would be followed by a certain 
amount of embarrassment and undoubt- 
edly destroy her plans. She waited for 
him to speak again, and he transferred his 
gaze from the Chinese rug to her. She 
was lying at full length now ; her legs 
crossed. There was an opening in her 
dress on one side, from the knee down 
and it disclosed a goodly portion of one 
of her legs encased in a black chiffon stock- 
ing, and he noticed that it was exceed- 
ingly well-formed. He also noted that 
her feet w r ere small, almost tiny, and that 
she was wearing very pretty shoes of black 
patent leather. She watched him as he 
took a cigarette case from his pocket and 
shook her head as he offered her one, 
after which he took one himself and lighted 
it. Inhaling deeply he leaned back in his 
chair and proceeded to study her for a 
moment, after which he said ; 

“Let’s stop this skirmishing. . .Why did 
you come here?” 

She smiled, and then with a cute little 
twist of her head she answered him, say- 
ing; “You musn’t be so stupid. . .Can’t 
you guess?” 

Chapin pondered. She was devilishly 
fascinating. “I presume you believe there 
is a possibility of your getting that $200,- 
000 insurance money.” 

“You are clever,” she said, grinning. 
“You may go to the head of the class.” 
But this was no time for joking, and he 
ignored the playful remark as he asked 
her sternly. “Do you still insist that you 
are Mrs. John Morgan?” 

She nodded. Then she suddenly raised 
herself to a sitting position, and placing 
her pretty feet on the floor, she rested her 
arms on her knees, and looking him straight 
in the eyes, said ; 

“What did you do with the $150,000 
which was in this room the night John 
Morgan returned?” 

This question surprised him. How had 
she learned of this money? He was posi- 
tive that nobody, except Morgan and him- 
self, knew of its existence. He was still 
mystified as he evaded an answer. “Is that 
why you have sent for me?” he inquired. 

(Continued on Page 4-2) 



19 2 5 



®irector 



27 




T HE efficiency slogan of all 
.veil-conducted newspaper 
offices, “Edit it in Copy, 
not in Type”, should have its 
counterpart in motion picture 
studios: “Do Your Editing to 
the Scenario not in the Cutting 
Room,” acording to Reginald 
Barker. 

Mr. Barker maintains that just as wise 
newspaper publishers who wish to hold 
down expenses placard their editorial rooms 
with notices advising department heads to 
trim news stories to the proper length 
and phraseology before they go to the lino- 
type machines, so should producers urge 
their directors to follow the same general 
policy in film production. 

This idea has become such an obsession 
with Mr. Barker that sometimes less pains- 
taking and less foresighted persons refer 
to him as “The story bug” because he in- 
sists on having the scenario perfected to 
the most minute detail before he starts 
shooting. 

“With the typewriter and pencil, it is 
much simpler and cheaper to edit the 
script than to perform the same operation 
on the negative with the cutting room 
scissors,” stated Mr. Barker. “Just as a 



newspaper wishes to save needless type com- 
position, so should it be a hundred times 
as great a saving to make the script letter 
perfect before dozens of days and thous- 
ands of dollars have been spent taking 
scenes that will be eliminated afterwards. 

“While perhaps this is not an altogether 
new thought, having your guns loaded with 
the sort of ammunition that will enable 
you to score a hit with the exhibitor and 
his public seems to me like worthwhile 
preparedness, and it has become a hobby 
of mine. I have had many an argument 
with producers who were anxious to get 
started shooting with a poorly constructed 
script, but when I won the point I think, 
in most instances, my employers agreed 
that the slight delay in perfecting the 
scenario had been well worth while. 

“Much of unnecessary expense is entailed 
by delays in production through imperfect 



Edit the 

Copy 
not the 
Type 

An Interview with 
Reginald Barker 



the written production with the thought 
that it will be remedied before the scene is 
scripts. Sometimes it is an inncomplete 
portion that is passed over in reviewing 
reached, and sometimes it is simple lack 
of clarity in expression. Whatever the 
ailment it always means delay and con- 
sequent increased expenses. 

“Nowhere else is time such a matter of 
moment as in a modern metropolitan news- 
paper plant and publishers constantly are 
watching operations to cut down unneces- 
sary corrections that may delay editions. 
In these days of rapid methods of pro- 
duction calling for day and night opera- 
tions in the studios, anything that will 
eliminate useless delay or shorten operations 
is worthy of serious consideration. 

“In my own experience I have found 
that insisting on perfected manuscripts, 
even if it is necessary to call in the screen 
writers to iron out the rough spots, is 
conducive to eliminating a great deal of 
confusion with attendant exasperation on 
the part of players and studio officials on 
the set. 

“In earlier days in the industry, a sce- 
nario was little more than a sketchy out- 
line of the plot, and the director was ex- 
pected to use his own judgment in follow- 



28 



ing the screen writer’s leads in filming the 
picture. 

“But modern methods of production de- 
mand that the director use his utmost 
efforts in producing the effects required 
in the picture and time limitations alone 
will will not permit deviation from the 



YNTHIA, passing tbe Ogre’s Castle 
in her car observed it to be tenanted. 
Young Warrington, coming down 
the driveway was about to pass her with 
no sign of greeting when she introduced 
herself in a neighborly way but he barely 
acknowledged her courtesy and passed on 
with a curt word in return. 

Cynthia rode home with flaming cheeks 
and mentally promised herself that she 
would leave this young Ogre, as she called 
him — strictly alone. 

Then Stanley bought Cal Dobbin’s 
newspaper — paid off the mortgage held by 
Addison Walsh and started in to write 
vitriolic articles about Walsh and his vari- 
ous money-making schemes. 

Then came Cynthia’s birthday fete — 
the performance of a Greek tragedy on the 
lawn at night — she to portray the role of 
a slave girl. Cynthia secretly sent Stan- 
ley an invitation, knowing he would not 
accept, but like the angler for trout — she 
was willing to try an enticing bait. 

^ The performance was a huge success and 
Cynthia played her part well. To thun- 
ders of applause, she hastened towards the 
house to change her costume when she 
bumped into none other than the young 
Ogre, himself. In his knickerbockers, he 
had been a secret observer from behind the 
hedge. In much embarrassment, he tried 
to explain his presence there as searching 
for his dog which had wandered away. 
Then Hector’s bark was heard as he saluted 
the moon, securely chained to his kennel. 
With a well-acted sigh of relief to know 
his dog had returned home — he left her, 
glad to get away. But he knew — that she 
knew — he was a fraud and had come there 
to see her and the sound of her laughter 
wafted towards him as he reached the 
roadway — and he mentally kicked himself 
for being a silly fool — but the memory of 
a slave girl, in flimsy costume, held his 
arms for a brief second as they met so 
suddenly near the hedge was not an un- 
pleasant thing to think about. 

Now go on with the story. 



T HE fate of the house of Stockton 
rested in Minerva’s hands and she 
knew it. Her next move would be 
to settle matters with Cynthia. A letter 
from Walsh brought her to this decision. 

The letter enclosed a cheque covering 
the bills for the birthday fete. It footed 
up to a tidy sum. 

My contribution to Cynthia’s birthday, 
with sincere wishes for her future happiness 



Director 

prescribed order determined before shoot- 
ing is started, were the director inclined 
so to do. 

“The very fact that the majority of 
screen writers graduated from the news- 
paper school has contributed greatly to the 



THE 

NIGHT 

BRIDE 

A Novel 

By Frederic Chapin 

( Continued from the July issue) 



— was all it said. No signature, except 
on the cheque. 

Could any woman fail to respond to 
such an appeal? 

Cynthia was just leaving for the Coun- 
try Club when her mother summoned her 
into the library. Observing Minerva close 
the doors carefully she smiled. “Some 
morsel of gossip,” she thought. But her 
mother had other matters on her mind. 

Silently she handed the letter and cheque 
to her daughter. Cynthia read it, noted 
the amount of the cheque and looked up 
quickly; but something in her mother’s 
expression stilled the words of protest hov- 
ering on her lips. 

“You will admit, my dear,” Minerva 
said, solemnly, almost reverently, “that Ad- 
dison Walsh is a man among men.” 

“Whv — ves, mother,” agreed Cynthia. 
“He is indeed — but we can’t accept this 
money from him. Father will pay these 
bills. If he had only sent a box of roses — ” 
Minerva almost sniffed aloud. Roses, 
instead of money, and at a time like this. 

“When I arranged for your birthday 
affair,” she explained, “I knew it would be 
costly. But it was too late for me to 
abandon my plans — even after I had 
learned that your father’s business affairs 
were in a precarious condition.” 

“You mean ?” 

“Just this. Your father today — is prac- 
tically bankrupt.” 

Cynthia’s face blanched. 

“He has had to borrow huge sums to tide 
over a period of depression,” her mother 
continued, “Addison Walsh came to his 
rescue — freely and generously. He plans a 
reorganization that will probably save us 
from ruin and disgrace.” 

The color returned to Cynthia’s cheeks. 



September 

advances made in the picture industry in 
efficiency of operations, for nowhere else 
can be learned so effectively the value of 
succinctness and clarity of expression, and 
it is my belief that their percepts have an 
extensive application to production activi- 
ties in motion pictures.” 



“He is a wonderful man,” she breathed, 
in genuine relief. “Then we have nothing 
to worry over.” 

Minerva shook her head impatiently. 

“I am glad you appreciate him,” she said. 
“As you are no doubt aware, he has been 
a real friend to us for some time. Can 
you imagine any particular reason why he 
should take such an interest in us?” 

Cynthia glanced away in doubt. 

“He likes us, I suppose,” she said, finally. 

“Possibly,” her mother observed, dryly. 
“But Addison’s motive was something 
other than that.” She hesitated, then took 
the plunge. “He loves you, my dear child 
— he desires to marry you.” 

To her great surprise her daughter took 
the information casually. 

“I was afraid of that,” said Cynthia. 
“Of course, I admire and respect him. He 
is a friend worth having, but I’m sorry 
he has fallen in love with me. Men of 
his age take such things seriously.” 

Minerva gave her daughter a queerish 
look. She began to realize she had reached 
the first barrier in her coup de main. 

“Addison takes it so seriously,” she re- 
iterated warningly, “That in the event of 
your refusal to marry him, he might be 
tempted to act merely as your father’s 
creditor, instead of a life long friend. 

Cynthia looked up sharply. 

“Mother,” she cried. “You don’t mean 
— that he — makes me — a condition?” 

She could never believe any man would 
be so base. 

“He has made no condition by word of 
mouth,” her mother said. “But he has im- 
plied them. Your father, poor, dear soul 
— is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 
I have noticed it of late. We have been 
selfish to let him worry and slave for us, 
without trying to help him in some way. 
With Addison our friend, the reorganiza- 
tion will take place; then your father can 
retire and get a well-earned rest. If Ad- 
dison refuses to aid us, I firmly believe the 
loss of your father’s business will kill him.” 

Cynthia’s heart contracted. 

“But, mother,” she remonstrated. “I 
couldn’t think of marrying him, I don’t 
love him.” 

She stood up and crossed the room, as 
if to escape from such an odious thought. 

Minerva knew better than to carry the 
fight to this strong-minded daughter of 
hers. She must win by sympathy. 

She assumed an abject, broken spirited 
attitude that touched Cynthia deeply. She 
returned and confronted her mother. 

“I don’t believe,” she said defiantly, as if 
to still her own doubts, “That Addison 




1925 



29 



©irector 



would make of his friendship for you and 
father, a matter of barter and sale for me. 
But we can easily find out.” 

She picked up the telephone, called 
Walsh’s number, talked with him a mo- 
ment and hung up the receiver. 

“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” she said, 
and went to the window to wait. 

Minerva’s heart was thumping with fear 
— fear that Walsh would openly declare 
himself — fear that Cynthia would prove 
untractable. 

A request from Cynthia was a command 
to Walsh. 

He breezed in shortly with a smile of 
greeting, that faded instantly as he saw 
their faces. Instinctively he was warned — 
and forewarned was forearmed. 

In a sympathetic manner, he inquired 
just how he could be of service. 

Minerva silently waived him to a chair. 

With a directness of purpose, Cynthia 
handed him his checque. He took it 
gingerly, as if it were something to which 
he had no right. He looked up ques- 
tionly. 

“It was most generous of you Addison,” 
she said. It was the first time she had 
addressed him by his first name, and his 
heart stirred within him. “I’m sorry,” she 
continued, “we can’t accept. I have just 
learned how matters stand between you and 
father. Mother has also told me — of your 
desire — to — marry me. I respect and ad- 
mire you in many ways — but I don’t love 
you. I sent for you — to ask — if all you 
have done for us, and all you plan to do 
regarding father’s financial affairs, is con- 
ditional upon my acceptance of your — 
proposal. I presume we may call it that.” 

Walsh was on his feet with a gesture of 
protest. 

“Cynthia,” he cried reproachfully. “How 
could you imagine such a thing?” He was 
a clever actor. “I admit I do love you, 
and I did take your mother into my con- 
fidence. She was kind enough to hope 
that my love might be reciprocated. But 
what I have done, and may do for you or 
your father, has no bearing on this subject, 
whatsoever. I can’t help loving you — 
who could? — but I haven’t spoken of it to 
you, and I never will, until you give me 
that right.” 

He turned and walked away with the 
manner of one hurt. It was artistry in 
the superlative degree. Minerva’s expres- 
sion was of unconcealed surprise. She did 
not understand the sudden change of 
technique but a quick glance from him 
warned her to say nothing, and let matters 
take their course. She understood. 

Said Cynthia to her mother triumphantly, 
“I told you so.” To Walsh she said 
cordially as she gave him he hand, 

“Addison, I am grateful.” Her voice 
was tremulous. “I don’t believe I can find 
the right words to express myself.” 

“Don’t try,” he said tenderly — and was 
gone. 

In her hand reposed the folded checque. 



“Not one false move or word,” thought 
Walsh in his car. 

“What a friend,” sighed Minerva. 

“Cheer up, mumsey,” Cynthia cried 
joyously. “Everything will come out all 
right. And if he keeps on being so kind 
— who knows?” 

She glanced down at the slip of paper 
in her hand. Those bills would have to 
be paid in some other way. Going to the 
writing desk, she addressed an envelope, 
placed the checque inside, moistened the 
gum with her pretty, red tongue, and 
dropped it into the basket for outgoing 
mail. 

Minerva’s heart sank as she observed 
this, but she dared make no protest. 

The telephone rang — imperiously — omi- 
nously. Cynthia answered it, the message 
sending the blood from her cheeks. Slowly 
she placed the instrument on the table. 

“Father is ill,” she told her mother in a 
frightened manner. “They are bringing 
him home. We must get the doctor here, 
at once.” 

She called a number, while Minerva 
stood by, irresolute and helpless. 

During the weeks it took John Stockton 
to recover his health — he had had a slight 
stroke — Addison Walsh stepped into the 
breach, took over the factories and injected 
new life into the business. His nightly 
reports of progress, his optimistic discus- 
sions of the reorganization that was taking 
place, his tender solicitude for Cynthia’s 
father, his cheerfulness and kindness; placed 
him firmly within the sacred portals of the 
Stockton menage, as one of the family. 

Slowly, but surely — and Minerva saw 
it with secret joy, Addison Walsh was 
gradually weaving his way into Cynthia’s 
heart. 

ELL — well — well,” ejaculated 
\\ Cal Dobbins one fine day, as 
Warrington, Jr., entered the 
office of his newspaper. “The buzzard has 
swooped down and captured the dove.” 

He handed him a copy of the paper, and 
pointed to a notice of Cynthia’s engage- 
ment. Stanley glanced at it casually and 
tossed it aside. On his desk was an article 
that held his attention. It dealt with a 
new issue of municipal bonds. Walsh had 
taken the entire lot, and the county had 
been mulcted out of a large sum of money. 
The whole deal smacked of skullduggery 
and Stanley called a spade, a spade. 

He tossed it over for Cal to read. At 
the closing line, that worthy individual’s 
mouth puckered in a long, drawn whistle. 

“To arms,” he shouted in mock dra- 
matics. “Soon the cohorts of our foe 
will sweep down upon us. “Fiat justicia, 
ruat caelum.” 

“Look out for that blue-nosed revolver,” 
warned Bill, the practical, looking up from 
his job of indicting some snappy headlines. 

“Say,” he called suspiciously. “What was 
that, Latin? I don’t believe you fellows 



know half the time what all that jibberish 
means.” 

Cal took a longshoreman’s chew of Navy 
Plug and turned indignantly. 

“For your information, son,” he shot 
at him, “the quotation recently delivered, 
with all the sang-froid of a Brutus, boiled 
down to words of few syllables, means: 
“Let justice be done, though the heavens 
fall.” 

“Well — something’s going to fall before 
long,” observed, Bill significantly, “and 
me thinks it will be little Addy, dropping 
in and upon us.” 

Stanley chucked. 

“It’s funny how I hate that man,” he 
said. “But he seems to be able to pick 
and choose his wives.” 

“Yeah,” said Bill without looking up. 
“With the Stockton ship sinking, and 
Walsh the only life-boat in sight, what’s 
a poor girl going to do?” 

Stanley polished his goggles. 

“Women are all alike,” said that young 
synic bitterly. “They’re flighty, silly and 
mercenary. To think of a beautiful girl 
like Miss Stockton, selling herself to an 
old galliwampus like Walsh, it’s disgust- 
ing. I hate ’em — all of ’em — everyone 
of ’em.” 

Cal and Bill looked at each other signi- 
ficantly. Of late they had been able to get 
the lowdown on their boss. Evidently he 
had been crossed in love. Well, who 
hadn’t? 

Stanley grunted. He was unconsciously 
visioning Cynthia in Walsh’s arms, and he 
almost shuddered. Touching a match to 
his pipe, he plunged into the work before 
him. 

On Cynthia’s finger glittered a white 
diamond that fairly scintillated sparks of 
fire. It was just a week since she had 
shyly lowered her head and allowed Ad- 
dison Walsh to kiss her — on the cheek. 

Walsh knew that he must not be too 
precipitate, even though the prize was al- 
most within his grasp. He was artful in 
love, as in finance, and he was willing to 
climb the ladder of romance step by step. 

Minerva and her husband were at a 
neighboring mountain resort, which left 
Cynthia on Walsh’s hands. He made the 
most of such a glorious opportunity. 
Flowers, gifts, motor rides, and theater 
parties kept her in a whirl of excitement. 
She was gratefully passive ; glad to feel 
that her mother was happy, and her father’s 
health improving. A placid sun of con- 
tentment shone down upon her. 

And all because of the magic touch of 
this paragon of men. 

The Ogre’s castle had been swept from 
her memory. As for Stanley Warrington, 
he had been tossed into the discard of her 
thoughts. 

Walsh was cracking his egg at the break- 
fast table, when Delia, his housekeeper, 
whose visage reflected the souring process 
(Continued, on Page 51) 



30 



©irector 



September 



WHY A SCENARIO? 

By Bradley King 



^LL of us have at one time or another 
r\ been classified as amateurs. In all 
* "*■ walks of life there must be a be- 
ginning point and here unfortunately, is 
where so many aspirants fail. They do 
not want to begin ; but seek to accomplish 
without even establishing a fundamental 
foundation. 

Unlike many other professions, photo- 
play writing does not offer an opportunity 
to “apprentice” ones self at the start, in 
the general accepted meaning of this term. 
Yet, screen authorship is the one vocation 
where such a privilege is needed most and 
would be greatly worthwhile. 

There is, however, the opportunity for 
the new writer to gain an invaluable train- 
ing from two other scources. One is news- 
paper work. Here the writer gets under 
.the outer surface of life and is constantly 
called upon to handle those situations 
which form the nucleus of photoplay plots. 
The news writer also receives editorial 
supervision as well as drastic training in 
the art of “boiling down.” This ability 
to condense will prove invaluable. The 
other field I have reference to is that of 
short-story writing. This furnishes an ex- 
cellent opportunity for the photoplay no- 
vice, I believe, for there are many points 
of similarity between the short-story and 
the motion picture plot. The peculiar 
construction of the short-story parallels in 
many ways that of the motion picture, for 
while the actual method of expression is 
greatly different the fundamentals of the 
two are very similar. For instance, in the 
short story the writer learns the value of 
such things as comedy relief, of contrasting 
light and shade, of building to a crisis and 
leaving it before it drops, as he is limited 
usually to words and many similar tricks 
of drama which are used by scenario writers 
as well. (I do not speak of the classical 
short story but refer more to the magazine 
fiction of today.) 

But to the author who adopts this method 
of beginning, there is a word of warning. 
Short-story writers must of necessity think 
in words and phrases, whereas the writer 
of scenarios thinks in pictures. If the 
author will endeavor to accompany every 
written paragraph of action in his short 
story with a brief imaginative picturization 
of the situation involved he will find him- 
self, after a while, unconciously getting into 
the habit of thinking photographically. 
Thus when the time comes for the change 
from short-stories to scenarios he has all 
ready prepared his mind to function ac- 
cordingly. 

I recall when I first started writing for 
the screen that my first instruction was: 
“Don’t forget to think in pictures”, And 



think in pictures I did, though I had been 
naturally schooled to think in words as a 
short-story writer. But that little thought 
was a great help to me, for visual inter- 
pretation of any situation is far more com- 
pelling to me than any other form. It is 
exactly the difference between seeing a 
horrible accident and hearing about it from 
another. The actual sight may nauseate 
you or leave a life-long imprint on your 
memory, whereas hearing it from some- 
one else, you will soon forget all about it 
and experience no sense of repulsion. 

Since I have been writing, however, I 
have elaborated that thought to this: 
“Think in a series of pictures." That is, do 
not plan the particular scene which is be- 
ing written by visualizing it alone; but go 
back and retrace what you have written 
previously, connecting the scene under con- 
sideration with all its predecessors as well 
as those which will follow. I have found 
this a great help as well as a labor saving 
device in that it decreases many corrections 
later on and results in a script which 
“hangs together” in closer dramatic se- 
quence. 

When I say “Think in Pictures”, I mean 
of course, Think action. The art and 
technical directors will worry about the 
details of setting, etc., and the scenario 
writer need not worry about these matters 
except to describe them in a general way. 
It helps the director, naturally, if he can 
get the visualization of the sets as mentally 
pictured by the author, and often gives him 
an idea which he can inject into the script, 
such as novel lighting effects and even 
unusual action. Given a continuity that 
is replete with good action however, and 
the setting will be mostly a matter of 
choice. 

Thinking in a series of pictures means 
much more than just mentally reviewing 
the scenes as written and those which are 
to follow. To explain further. By a 
series of pictures I refer to complete 
thoughts — sequences. While it is far more 
tedious and difficult a task to match a 
sequence of scenes, one with the other in 
perfect dramatic continuity, it has proven 
far more successful than the old-fashioned 
method of writing a number of discon- 
nected scenes and then matching them to- 
gether, — or leaving it entirely to the di- 
rector or film cutter to worry about. While 
it is utterly impossible and foolish to expect 
a continuity to be scene perfect, so that it 
can be photographed exactly as written, 
this should be the goal for which the sce- 
narist strives. Writers are becoming 
more and more adept in the art of “cut- 
ting” their story as they write. But for 
the amateur who has had no actual studio 



experience, this is practically impossible, 
unless he will spend much time reviewing 
films and then learning a system of mental 
editing. This however, is at best a very 
difficult and unsatisfactory procedure and 
one which requires a very good natural 
sense of continuity as photographed, as well 
as a great deal of time and patience. 

To be able to dovetail your scenes until 
they are as near perfect production form as 
possible for the director, is a qualification 
every novice should strive to attain. Pro- 
ducers, too, are realizing the advantages 
of this method of script writing and are 
demanding it, wherever possible, from 
their writers. 

O F course, the writer in Hollywood 
or New York will find it easy to 
confer with the director who will 
produce his story, after acceptance. This 
is a method I have religiously followed 
from the very first draft of my first sce- 
nario. After completing a rough “idea 
outline” of scenes I always go to the di- 
rector and get his viewpoints and intended 
treatment of the story. My first draft is 
then revised accordingly, for what is the 
-use of writing a script which is not in 
harmony with the director’s ideas? Two 
heads are always better than one and the 
sooner writers realize this and get their 
“swell-heads” healed, the better off the 
whole industry is going to be. The direc- 
tor is the one who will eventually develop 
the story for the screen, and it behooves 
the script writer to consider his angles as 
being mighty important, before completing 
the scenario. 

As for the market for original stories. 
This talk about there being no market — 
or there being an unusually good market — 
is simply material for some poor press agent 
who hasn’t the gumption to think up some- 
thing more original, and desires to hand 
his boss the necessary press clippings re- 
gardless of their contents. There will al- 
ways be a good demand for usable original 
scenarios. Mr. Producer realizes fully 
well the value of an original story written 
expressly for the screen, in comparison with 
the adapted novel or play. He is only 
too glad to get them. I spent over two 
months trying to get an assignment to do 
an adaptation and for that length of time 
was consistently bombarded with assign- 
ments to write original stories round box- 
office titles. Which only goes to prove 
that the trouble is not with the demand 
for originals, but with the supply. 

T HE day has arrived when the director 
is more than just a man with a 
megaphone, wildly shouting directions 
to actors. This new type of artisan who 



1925 



31 



W. MOTION »KTMU 

director 



has invaded the industry is a thinker. He 
is a capable judge of story values as well 
as dramatic situations, and usually he is a 
specialist in treatment. This after all is 
the most important factor in the produc- 
tion of photoplays, because “there is noth- 
ing new under the sun” in reference to 
original plots, — except originality of treat- 
ment. Get a director’s viewpoint on your 
story but try and get a new treatment of 
your story yourself and don’t leave all the 
.thinking up to the man who wields the 
megaphone or doesn’t according to his press 
agents’ particular fancy. 

Every story is written with a certain 
effect in mind. First decide what effect 
you want to drive home and then keep- 
ing this point in mind, make every scene, 
every touch, build up and emphasize this 
particular effect. You wouldn’t hit a 
bull’s eye with your eyes closed, you’d look 
where you’re aiming. Scenario writing is 
to a great extent, mental marksmanship, so 
follow this same principle in your screen 
work. Know what you’re aiming at and 
then don’t wobble. Remember always 
that you are writing your scenario for the 
director. The technical director, title edi- 
tor, members of the cast, etc., though they 
are all supplied with copies of your script, 
and, no doubt, find good use for it, could 
do without it, if the director has his copy 
and it was written for him exclusively. 
But to the director it is a chart. He must 
have it, whether he uses it merely to check 
his progress or as it was intended to be 



used. The old method of putting scenarios 
to one side and making the story over in 
his own way has gone for the director. 
Producers cannot see paying $10,000 for 
a continuity only to have the director use 
it for memorandum. The continuity to- 
day is paid for and well worth the price, 
and Mr. Producer sees that the director 
thinks so too. The present day director 
knows the story by heart and follows the 
script because it is written for him. It 
may flatter the director to think this but 
he has sense enough not to forget that a 
continuity today is a technical work, done 
by a skilled artisan, and worthy of every 
consideration. It is like the mile-posts 
to the traveler or the compass and charts 
to a navigator — and as necessary. 

And, remember that scenario writers 
are not born, they are made. And they 
aren’t made overnight either! Just keep in 
mind that there are writers who have spent 
years in training their minds for this type 
of work. So, don’t be discouraged or im- 
patient if your first or your twentieth 
manuscript does not immediately find a 
market. It is probable that it won’t. Per- 
haps it may but you will be fortunate in- 
deed in marketing your early efforts so 
promptly. But keep at it and study — 
study — study ! Five years of anyone’s life 
preparing for scenario writing is none too 
much and well worth the effort if one suc- 
ceeds. Where else can a man or woman 
receive a remuneration far in excess of the 



President’s after only five years of study, 
that he can in this profession? Think it 
over. Think of your doctor and lawyer 
and dentist. And then just for fun, ask 
them how long they’ve been establishing 
themselves ! 

There are a thousand and one reasons 
why producers keep printing supplies of re- 
jection slips. Stories are not the easiest 
things to select. The producer’s rejection 
slip may in no way be a reflection upon 
the merits of your story, on the other 
hand it may. 

You can best answer this question. Re- 
jection may result from an internal studio 
condition. For instance, while your story 
is very fine from a dramatic viewpoint, it 
may have nothing within reach of the 
particular producer to whom it is sub- 
mitted. It may call for a budget of ex- 
penditure far in excess of his plans, it may 
be that his contract players are not suited 
to the story, or a hundred and one similar 
reasons, none of which reflect upon the 
ability of the writer or the quality of his 
story. 

Do not make the mistake of treating 
your work too lightly. Scenario writing 
is not suitable as a sideline. Remember 
that it is a business as well as anything 
else. Always strive to have your manu- 
script appear business like and neat. 

And above all else, don’t forget that lit- 
tle thought: “Think in a Series of pic- 
tures !” 




As a change off from directing plays the directors sometimes do some playing themselves, as witness this 
flashlight taken during the enactment of John Ford’s soiree, “A Jubilee of the Plains,” staged at the 
clubhouse of the Motion Picture Directors’ Association. Being himself a past master in the direction of 
Western productions, John Ford introduced some Western atmosphere reminiscent of “The Iron Horse” 
and suggestive of his new picture, “Three Bad Men,” which he is now directing on location at Jackson 
Hole, Wyoming, which accounts for the presence of the husky looking pioneers and the “friendly In- 
dian.” John Ford, by the way, is the gentleman with the five-gallon hat at the right of the Indian, while 
to the left crouches Bill Beaudine, president of the M.P.D.A. Photo by Milligan, direction by Ham Beall. 





32 



©irector 



September 



THE MOTION PICTURE 



L ocale — Hollywood, California. 

Time — The Present. 

^ The Scene — The Clubhouse of 
The Motion Picture Directors Associ- 
ation. 

CAST 

Human Beings — 

The Members. 

The Actor. 

The Independent Producer. 

The Cutter. 

His Body Guard. 

Knowledge. 

Scarehead. 

Scene — The Lounging Room of The 
Motion Picture Directors Association. 
It is a large and comfortable room, with 
numerous easy chairs and lounges. In the 
corner is a round table at which five of 
the Directors are playing a game of Hearts. 
At one end of the room a large wfindow 
looks out upon the Avenue. On the walls 
of the room are framed “mottoes.” Prom- 
inently displayed is “The Brotherhood of 
Man,” “Fraternity Above All,” “Let 
There Be Light.” 

The room is comfortably crowded with 
members of the Association. As the cur- 
tain rises they are singing the Club Song: 

I’m a Member of The M. P. D. A. 
And I know that you’ll believe me when 
I say 

That my method of direction 
Is the acme of perfection; 

I’m an Artist with a Capital “A.” 

I’m a Member of The M. P. D. A., 
And I love to show my power in every 
way. 

When the Star gets temperamental, 

I remark in tones Parental — 

Just remember — I’m a Member, 

I’m a Member of The M. P. D. A. 
(Applause from all the Members) 

Fred 

Isn’t it great — The Spirit of Fraternal- 
ism that permeates the atmosphere? 

Al 

{A newly-initiated member who has 
only been admitted to the organiza- 
tion the day previously the Star- 
Director of a Comedy Company who 
specializes in animals, and who is 
having a couple of days' vacation 
owing to the indisposition of "Peter 
the Great," the diagnosis being 
"Distemper.") 

What’s he talking about ? Some of these 
highbrow Directors make me sick. What 
did he mean by permeate? 

Jim 

There’s an Encyclopaedia in the next 
room. Maybe it’s a new “gag.” Just as 
well to listen in on some of these ducks. 



INDUSTRY 

An Intimate Travesty 
By Travers Vale 



Note by the Author. — This skit 
is written in a spirit of merriment — 
with malice to none — with the hope, 
possibly, that it will serve to bring 
home to all of us, in The Industry, 
faults that will be remedied. Re- 
member, none of us are perfect. 



Sometimes they do broadcast some thing 
we can use. 

Joe 

(Continuing Fred's enthusiasm) 

That’s the wonderful part of this Asso- 
ciation — the abuses we’ve eliminated. Why, 
I remember way back in the early days we 
considered our fellow-directors our per- 
sonal enemies, but thank God 

Roy 

(In the midst of a heated argument at the 
"Heart" table) 

That’s the rottenest play I ever saw. 
Couldn’t you hold the Queen of Spades a 
little while longer? 

Paul 

(Who rises angrily) 

And take it myself? It’s every man for 
himself. 

Joe 

And now you see — everyone is a friend. 
Look at the Industry — how it has pro- 
gressed. Why I remember in the early 
days 

Al 

That guy must have come over in The 
Mayflower. 

Joe 

— when the Industry was still in its in- 
fancy — 

Jim 

(Thoughtfully) 

That would make a great title, “Still 
in Its Infancy." 

Al 

Been used before. All the Film Mag- 
nates use it in their speeches at the dinners 
they give to their Publicity Men. They 
do say that Hays used it on one occasion, 
and that the Producers’ Association claims 
that they have it copyrighted. No, it’s 
cold turkey for our stuff. 



Jim 

That’s the trouble with the Big 
Fellers — they grab everything. 

Wally 

( A pleasant-faced Director with a per- 
petual smile — a favorite with all his con- 
freres, and who has had a preview of his 
latest picture the previous night.) 

Say, Boys, did you see my picture, last 
night? 

Everyone 

( Brightly — as if they had enjoyed it) 

Yes. Yes. 

Fred 

( Comes over to him enthusiastically and 
slaps him on the shoulder) 

Great picture, Wally. I — I didn’t quite 
like the story, but it was a great Picture. 
The camera-work was not quite as good 
as Who was it that played the lead- 

ing part? I didn’t think he was quite the 
Type. 

Joe 

( Chimes in with — ) 

I think it was a mistake not to keep up 
the suspense. You see, in the middle of 
the first reel everyone knew that the wife 
was going to leave the husband 

Wally 

That’s what The Producer wanted. 
He said, “It always happens that way in 
Hollywood, and besides that’s up to The 
Scenario Department.” 

Joe 

It’s a great Picture, though. Some of 
the Sets might have been better. 

Wally 

I kicked about them but The Producer 
said, “That Razinsky and Polotskey and 
all the other Foreign Directors had ‘Shot’ 
them, and that if they were good enough 
for them ” 

George 

(Who has been in a comatose state the 
entire evening, slowly and 
solemnly expounds — ) 

I’ve got an idea. 

Fred 

(Earnestly to the conclave) 

Silence, Boys. At last George has an 
idea. Project it. 

George 

It’s what Wally said about The Foreign 
Directors. Oh, it’s a great idea! You 
know, Boys, I’m 100 per cent American. 

Everybody 

(Shouts) 

You bet you are. Yes. Yes. 

George 

Born, raised and educated in Topango 
Canyon. Never left the country until I 
went “Over There.” Was one of the 
first to enlist. Went into the theatrical 
game when I was a kid, and when the 



1925 



33 



pictures came I started with them. From 
acting I was promoted to directing — made 
over a hundred pictures — but since the 
armistice I’ve practically done nothing. 
All my years of experience count for noth- 
ing. Instead of its being an asset, as in 
all other Professions, it’s a liability. " New 
Blood ” New Ideas' ' is the cry! Now 
for my idea. Let me picture it to you. I 
am supposed to go to Europe — suddenly 
one day the news is flashed that Rabbi 
Sholem Ben Cohinsky, the eminent Direc- 
tor from Jerusalem, is on his way over to 
New York. Do I go to Europe? No! 
I grow a beard, engage a Press Representa- 
tive, skip to New York and sneak over to 
Ellis Island. On my arrival at The 
Battery I am deluged with offers by the 
Potentates of The Industry, and if I can 
only manage to waste a couple of millions 
on my first picture — there you are. 

Al 

That guy’s got the right dope. 

(At the “ Heart table " another row is in 
progress ) 

Roy 

(Throwing his cards down angrily) 

The Queen of Spades again ! ! ! 

Paul 

(An grily rising ) 

Well what did you want me to do with 
it? Eat it? 

(A strange nondescript person enters the 
door. He is an Actor. He is dressed in 
a marvelous fashion. White flannel trous- 
ers and shoes. IV ears a baseball sweater, 
partly concealed by an evening dress coat. 
On his head is a French military cap. He 
is clean-shaven on one side of the face and 
wears a half beard and a half moustache 
on the other. He staggers through the 
door and sinks in the chair which is sub- 
serviently offered him. All the Directors 
look at him with reverence. One offers 
him a drink. Two other prominent Di- 
rectors fan him. He is evidently of great 
importance.) 

Jim 

Who the hell’s him? 

The Actor 

(Rises and is plainly astounded that he 
should be unknown to any person. 

He strides towards Jim) 

What? Do you mean to say you are in 
the picture business and you don’t know 
me? 

Jim 

(With abject apology) 

Well, I’ve been out of town for a week. 
Al 

( Reverently) 

You ain’t Valentino? 

The Actor 

No. He only plays in one picture at a 
time. I’m in demand. I play in five. 

They must have me. Directors wait for 
me. Studios stop for me. Producers beg 
for me. Distributors clamor for me. 
Exhibitors pray for me. Walk along 
Broadway and you’ll find my name in 



f MOTION ncrviu 

director 



electric lights on every theatre at the same 
time, but in a different picture. 

Al 

(Pointing to his strange costume ) 

But why the “get-up?” 

The Actor 

(Indicating from his waist to his feet) 

From here down — I belong to the Holly- 
woodland Studios. From here to here 
( indicating the baseball sweater). Wool- 
worth Brothers. The coat is working in 
a society picture with Silverfish. This side 
of the face, at two o’clock (indicating the 
half-shaven effect) is working with the 
Famous Artists, while the other side is 
under contract with The Half a Century 
Comedies. I’m a very busy man. 

Jim 

What do you do with your spare time? 
The Actor 

Make a few personal appearances — and 
pay Alimony. Talking of alimony, wives 
are getting pretty scarce around this Asso- 
ciation. I thought that was a privilege of 
the Actors. 

Al 

Not satisfied with hogging all the parts 
he wants the women. 

(Through the door enters a tattered 
Tramp, who shuffles slowly in. He is 
known to the Fraternity as “ Exzema.” ) 

Roy 

(The President of the Club looks at him 
with reverence. He rises solemnly 
to his feet) 

Out of respect, Boys ; out of respect ! 

(The entire assemblage rises except Al, 
who is staring at the nondescript creature. 
They all salute him proudly.) 

Jim 

(Dragging Al to his feet) 

On your feet! On your feet! 

Al 

Who is that? Mack Sennett? 

Roy 

Brother Al, as you only joined yester- 
day, the Secretary will enlighten you. 

Harold 

(The Secretary indicating Exzema) 

That — that is the last of the Independ- 
ent Producers. (He tells the Leader of 
the Orchestra) A little plaintive music 
please. (The Orchestra plays “ Hearts and 
Flowers.") Three years ago he was happy 
on his little farm in Idaho. He had read 
Sears and Roebuck’s catalogue and heard 
of the fortunes to be made in Independent 
Production in Hollywood. He sold his 
Cow, cranked his Ford, and soon arrived 
through Cahuenga Pass. Was there a 
Band to meet him? No. If he’d arrived 
on the Santa Fe, it would have been dif- 
ferent. 

Al 

Why would it have been different? 

Jim 

Don’t show your ignorance. All the 
successful ones arrive by train. 



Harold 

(Continuing his pathetic recital) 

He received his wonderful distribution 
contract. He has it framed in the bath- 
room now. His first picture was a great 
success. The production cost was only 
twenty-five thousand dollars, and it grossed 
nearly half-a-million. It has been released 
two years and five years from now he has 
hopes of getting back his cost of produc- 
tion. 

Al 

What’s become of the half-a-million? 

Harold 

Eaten up by the Overhead. The Presi- 
dent and the Seventeen Vice-Presidents of 
the Distributing Company have to have 
some salary. 

Jim 

Sure — you can’t expect them to work 
for nothing. 

Harold 

He mortgaged his Ford and started on 
his second picture, and now he walks to 
The Club. 

Al 

How much did the Director get? 

Harold 

A percentage of the profits. 

Exzema 

The profits — (Laughing hysterically.) 
Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Jim 

That’s what he got. 

(Exzema staggers towards the door.) 

Harold 

(Pityingly) 

Where are you going, old fellow? 

Exzema 

To the Museum, to be with the other 
extinct animals. 

(He slowly goes out the door. The 
Music stops and all sit down. The Toot 
of an automobile horn is heard outside. A l 
goes to the window and looks out.) 

Al 

Some class to that car. A new Rolls- 
Royce. Must be a top-notch Director. 

Jim 

No. That’s the President of The As- 
sassinated Exhibitors’ Distributing Com- 
pany. They had Forty Independent Pro- 
ductions on their Program last year. None 
of the Forty have got their production cost 
back yet, and that is his sixth car. 

Al 

Who is that stout, swell-looking guy 
with him? 

Jim 

The President of The Hollywoodland 
Company, one of the biggest Producing 
companies in America, but he’s a good fel- 
low. Has a large family, and every time 
a new baby is born he makes him a Direc- 
tor. 

(The Telephone rings and Harold takes 
off the receiver.) 

Harold 

Eh? I don’t quite catch the name. 



34 



September 



Whom do you want? Eh? Barbara 
wants him 

( A crowd of Directors start for the door 
at the mention of her name.) 

Stop ! 

(As he shouts “Stop” all the men pause. 
He speaks in the phone.) 

No. This is not a Barbers. It’s the 
M.P.D.A. 

(Hangs up receiver. To the Boys.) 

A mistake, Boys. 

(All the men return disconsolately to 
their seats. A freckle-faced boy about 
twelve years old enters the door. He is 
escorted in by a bodyguard of eight police- 
men with drawn clubs. The boy approaches 
a well-known Director.) 

The Boy 

Ive ’’Cut” your picture. 



Al 

Is he a “cutter”? 



Yep. 

But why the 
He needs it. 



Jim 

Al 

bodyguard ? 

Jim 

Hush. 



Boy 

(In a positive manner to the prominent 
Director) 

I’ve cut out that sequence in the Royal 
Palace, and changed the location from Vi- 
enna to Timbuctoo. I’ve cut out the lead- 
ing woman altogether. 

The Director 

Why? 

Boy 

I don’t like the way she bobs her hair. 
The Director 

That isn’t the real reason. I’m not go- 
ing to have all my pictures ruined by you. 
Boy 

Ruined? If it wasn’t for me all your 
stuff would be in the can. You Directors 
stall around — shoot a couple of hundred 
thousand feet and make Eastman rich, and 
then it’s up to me to get your “Master- 
pieces” over. You come to a big dramatic 
situation and then get stuck — and then 
you “Fade-out.” If it wasn’t for me and 
the title-writers the most of you would be 
in the soup. 

The Director 

Can’t you let a flash of the leading lady 
stay in? 

Boy 

And her insulting the Boss like she did 
the other night? Not a chance. 

The Director 

(Sinks to his knees appealingly) 

On my bended knees I implore 

Boy 

(IVith a look of utter disgust at him — he 
turns to his guard) 

Fall in. (The Police line up and they 
march to the door — the Boy turns.) And 
let me tell you another thing: The Amal- 
gamated Cutters’ Association have got 
their scissors out — so beware — beware — 



I- MOTTO*. MCTVU 

director 



beware! (And he stalks out majestically 
with his guard.) 

The Director 

(Staggers to his feet and with an 
agonizing cry) 

My God ! What will Sid Grauman 
say when he sees that Picture? 

Al 

(To Jim) 

Put me wise! Put me wise! Who is 
Sid Grauman? 

Jim 

And you a Director? And you ask, 
“Who is Sid”? Why, he’s the biggest 
showman in the business. He runs the 
“Gippum Theatre” in Hollywood — the 
one they found in King Tut’s Tomb. He’s 
got P. T. Barnum backed off the map — 
always plays to crowded houses. If he has 
any empty seats he fills ’em up with wax 
figgers. Give Sid a rotten picture, and 
he’ll prologue it to success. Don’t ever 
tell nobody you don’t know Sid. 

(There is a yell of delight at the 
“Heart” table.) 



Roy 

That saves us twenty-five cents — The 
Queen. 

Paul 

( A ngrily) 

If we were not in The Club 



Rats ! 



All at the Table 



Joe 



As I was saying — the Fraternal Spirit — 



The Director 

(Still moaning over his unhappy lot) 

And they cut her out of every scene. 

(At this moment “ Knowledge ” enters. 
He is dressed in academical robes — wears 
horn-rimmed glasses — evidently a person- 
age of profound wisdom — he greets the 
assemblage.) 

Knowledge 

Hello, Boys! 

Everybody 

Hello, Knowledge! 

Jim 

(Replying to Al’ s puzzled look of 
inquiry) 

Head of The Research Department at 
The Half-a-Century Comedies. What 

that guy doesn’t know 

(To The Director whom The Boy had 
criticized) 

I looked up the data on that set. You’ve 
got seven different periods of furniture in 
it. The cuspidors are all wrong — they’re 
too plain — and the electric lights were not 
yet invented. 

The Director 

But the picture’s released. Why didn’t 
you tell me before? 



Knowledge 

Why didn’t you wait until I found out? 
Do you expect The Research Department 
to know these things? 



The Director 

Well, what are we going to do about it? 



Knowledge 

We’ll have to put in a couple of titles 
to cover it. It’s up to the scenario staff. 
The Head of the Scenario Department 
says we can call it a “Curiosity Shop.” The 
Efficiency Department wants to turn it 
into “A Dream.” The Technical Depart- 
ment puts the blame on the Property De- 
partment, and suggests we cut out the en- 
tire scene and put it in a “Fight” picture. 
The Production Manager says it would be 
okay in a “Revolutionary” picture, but the 
Studio Manager says it’s the bunk. The 
Camera Department said the photography 
was good, so they were not to blame. The 
Electrical Department said, “How the 
Hell were they to know that electric lights 
were not invented in 1865?” The only 
way, in my opinion, is to start a new Dis- 
tributing Company and release the picture 
through it. 

Joe 

Why not put it in the can? 

Knowledge 

Cans are all filled. We tried to sell it 
to The Seidlitz News W eekly, but Joe 
said we’d be infringing on too many of the 
other productions. 

The Director 

What did the Financial Man say? 

Knowledge 

It took a long time to get the straight- 
jacket on him. The Doctor at the sana 
torium told me he never would be the 
same. Of course, if Griffith, or some of 
those big Foreign Directors had made the 
picture, the Boss would have said they had 
an object in doing it that way — that it was 
the psychology of co-ordination, in a con- 
crete way, only understandable by high 
mentality, engendered by intellectuality 
that emanated from their superhuman tem- 
peramentality. 

Al 

That guy uses the needle. 

ScAREHEAD 

(Now enters the door. He has an eye- 
shade on. He is coatless — a Typical City 
Editor. Jovially he greets the crowd.) 

Hello, Boys! What’s the latest news? 

(All the Directors turn away from him 
with disgust and do not reply to his greet- 
ing.) 

Al 

He seems mighty popular with the 
crowd. Who is he? 

Jim 

He’s the Editor of The Yellow Journal. 
Al 

Then why does he ask us for the news? 
He is supposed to give it to us, ain’t he? 

Jim 

No! You poor simp! That’s why he’s 
anan Editor. In order not to show his 
ignorance, if an extra man or some poor 
mechanic gets into trouble around the stu- 
dio, he runs big headlines in his paper — 
“Prominent Director Is Arrested — 
So-and-So, the Famous Director, Is Under 
(Continued on Page 55) 



192 5 



35 



> X MOTION ri<TVTU 

©irector 




T ALKING about the fickleness of the 
fan public, an amusing incident is re- 
lated as having occured at the recent 
Greater Movie Season demonstration in 

San Francisco 
in which Lew 
Cody and 
Fred Thom- 
son were fea- 
tured. Accord- 
ing to the yarn 
as it came back 
from the Bay 
City Lew 
Cody was 
heading t o- 
ward the St. Francis Hotel, where, follow- 
ing the parade, a banquet and similar do- 
ings were to be held in honor of the visit- 
ing celebrities. On the way to the hotel 
Lew conceived the idea of adopting a mas- 
cot and spotted a street urchin in the 
motley crowd on the sidelines. With that 
impetuosity which is so characteristic of 
him, he made a dive into the crowd and 
made the kid his mascot. Everything was 
jake until they arrived at the St. Francis 
and things were proceeding very much to 
Lew’s liking. But at the hotel the kid 
spied Fred Thomson talking with a group 
of visitors. 

“There’s the guy I wanter see!” the kid 
is reported to have exclaimed leaving Lew 
flat and bolting to the side of Fred Thom- 
son with a “mit me” expression. Fred 
•accepted the nomination and Lew had the 
fun of seeing his mascot entertained as 
Fred’s guest. 

* * # 

AND speaking of Fred Thomson, his 
l\ Silver King is reputed to have been 
the first equine guest to put up at the St. 
Francis in San Francisco. It was during 
the same Greater Movie Season demonstra- 
tion and Silver King had been transported 
to the northern city for that event. Fol- 
lowing the parade a section of the St. 
Francis grill was divided off and a stall 
made for the horse before the fireplace 



where he was an honored guest at the 
festivities. 

Incidentally Silver King made the trip 
from Hollywood to San Francisco in a 
specially constructed auto trailer designed 
by Fred Thomson, in eleven hours and 
thirty-five minutes. One of the fastest 
trips on record. The S.P.’s crack train 
to San Francisco, the Lark, makes it thir- 
teen hours and twenty-five minutes. 

* * * 

4fT)USY AS A BEE” developed a dif- 
IJ ferent slant from that customarily 
given it the other day at the Educational 
lot where A1 St. John was shooting scenes 
on his next picture. Things were moving 
along swimmingly when a swarm of bees 
descended on the lot and put a stop to all 
activity, not only there but on the Pickford- 
Fairbanks lot adjoining. 

* * * 

P ITY the poor 
studio worker 
under the “broiling” 

California sun. His 
lot is a hard one, 
particularly at the 
Pickford - Fairbanks 
studio where it is re- 
ported that iced or- 
ange-juice is served every afternoon at 
three. According to said reports the cus- 
tom was introduced by Mary during the 
“unusual” days in July and no has seen 
fit to discontinue it. 

And speaking of the Pickford-Fairbanks 
lot, — wonder if the vogue for sideburns in- 
troduced by Doug’s shooting of Don Q. 
has terminated yet? Even the bootblack 
officiating at the stand just outside the 
gates, acquired a beautiful set of down- 
growing sideburns, while they were shoot- 
ing that production. It was quite a com- 
mon sight to see musicians and cameramen 
with more hair growing down the sides 
of their cheeks than often appeared on their 
heads. 



H erb rawlinson, who has just 

started production for Rayart on a 
new serial titled The Flame Fighter, in 
which Brenda Lane and Dorothy Donald 
are being fea- 
tured, is report- 
ed to have been 
the off-scene hero 
of an encounter 
with Strongheart 
on the grass plot 
in front of the 
F.B.O. studios. 

According to the 
story as it trick- 
led forth from 
F.B.O. , Herb and Gaston Glass were en- 
gaged in a “friendly duel” while nearby 
Paul Powell was rehearsing Strongheart 
for the early sequences in North Star for 
Howard Estabrook. It has been said 
that German police dogs have been trained 
to attack anyone holding a weapon, and 
that an actor in such an attitude is a pet 
aversion. Be that as it may, just as Herb 
was raising his weapon Strongheart saw 
him. Forgetting all about the scene he 
was rehearsing he made a leap for Rawlin- 
son. The quick intervention of Strong- 
heart’s trainer is said to have been all that 
saved Herb from a severe mauling. 

* * * 

ALL OF WHICH is sufficiently excit- 
jTjL ing, even when it is outside of the 
day’s activity, but the prize source of dis- 
gruntlement is to go through a genuine 
mauling scene with a full-grown leopard 
as a thrilling sequence in a jungle picture, 
and then to have the producing company 
quit production. That is what happened 
to Dorothy Donald at the old Selig studio 
recently where early sequences were being 
filed in Jungle Fables. Realism reached 
a point a bit too acute for comfort, but 
it was all in the day’s work, until pro- 
duction was indefinitely suspended. Now 
Dorothy has only her scars and a couple 
of stills to show for the gruelling moments 
she spent wrestling with the leopard. 






36 



September 



T hat old vaudeville gag 

of kidding the show has been materi- 
ally improved on the M.G.M. lot where 
the big ’uns at the Culver City studio are 

reported t o 
have a myster- 
ious two-reeler 
which none 
but the initiate 
have been per- 
mitted to pre- 
view. Accord- 
ing to reports, 
however, certain of the directors and play- 
ers concocted the idea of making a bur- 
lesque reel on their confreres, each im- 
personating the mannerisms and character- 
istics of some other player or director. One 
scene said to show all the directors on the 
lot pawing around in a mud-hole and is 
titled “Looking for the end of Von Stern- 
berg’s picture.” Finally Louis Mayer is 
shown driving on scene in a dilapidated 
flivver, carrying an umbrella to keep off 
the “rain.” He directs the search but 
whether ending was found has not been 
disclosed. 

Mae Murray is reported to have been 
considerably muffed over the clever imper- 
sonation of her in this film and it is said, 
refuses to permit the subject to be brought 
up in her presence. 

* * * 




S TUDIO FOLK throughout Holly- 
wood, and particularly the old-timers, 
are sincerely mourning the passing of Jenny 
Lee, one of the real old-timers of the films, 
who died at her Hollywood home, Wed- 
nesday, August 5th. Miss Lee, who, in 
private life, was known as Mrs. William 
Courtright, was active in theatrical life 
for more than sixty years. She began her 
career at the age of 14 and has since played 
many emotional parts on the legitimate 
stage and screen. She came into promi- 
nence as a character actress of genuine 
ability in the role of the Southern mother 
in The Birth of a Nation. 

* * * 



T HAT OLD ADAGE about those 
who came to scoff and remained — at 
least to respect, has had further exemplifi- 
cation recently at The Writers where was 

previewed 
Ralph Graves’ 
first picture, 
Swell Hogan. 
Those who 
had seen the 
early rushes 
were extreme- 
ly skeptical of 
results and went to the preview frankly 
expecting to be bored. According to re- 
ports, however, Swell Hogan is not only 
an interesting example of what a comedian 
can do when he turns his attention to dra- 
matic direction, but also what can be ac- 
complished in the cutting room. Cut to 




Tj \ MOTWX W»HW 

director 



five reels, Swell Hogan is said to be a 
classic in characterization and a real gem. 
The story is simple but well told ; suspense 
carefully developed, the plot a simple 
character study of the homespun type. Rose 
Doner, of the Lady Be Good Company 
makes her first screen appearance as the 
dancer in Swell Hogan’s cafe and is re- 
ported as doing exceptional work. Her 
rendition of the Charleston is said to be 
the best that has ever been executed on 
the screen. 

Swell Hogan was produced at the Wal- 
dorf studios and Graves has a “swell” pic- 
ture but no release. 

Anyway he still has two more pictures 
to make for Mack Sennett. 

* * * 



W HILE he doesn’t seem to be making 
much fuss about it li’l ol’ Dan Cupid 
apparently has been busy around Holly- 
wood studios. Hardly had the news of 

weddings at the 
Fox Studios 
been sprung 
than Arthur E. 
Milford, film 
editor for Em- 
bassy Pictures, 
silently stole 
away to the lit- 
tle church 
around the corner, where Rev. Neal Dodd 
officiates, and was wedded to Miss Doro- 
thy Hunter. Eleanor Hunter, sister of 
the bride, was maid of honor, and Arthur 
Huffsmith was best man. The couple 
spent a brief honeymoon at San Diego 
and are now parked at the Marathon apart- 
ments. Arthur Milford is reputed to be 
one of the best film cutters in the business 
and has a wide circle of friends in the 
picture colony. He now makes head- 
quarters on the F.B.O. lot. 




T HERE’S a brand new director in 
Hollywood. Anyway there’s consider- 
able likelihood that the new arrival at the 
home of Edward Laemmle may ultimately 
become a wielder 
of the megaphone 
on the Universal 
lot. In the mean- 
time it is report- 
ed that a mega- 
phone is entirely 
unnecessary and 
that the new arrival has no difficulty in 
being heard. Press agents at Universal 
City hailed the event as the source of new 
story breaks and sprang one that had that 
new twist all P.A.’s are reported to be 
looking for. According to the yarn as it 
broke in the Hollywood papers Edward 
Laemmle was working on the lot when 
word reached him that there was a “bird 
in the office to see him.” “Who is he 
and what does he want??” E. L. is re- 
ported to have asked in that don’t-bother- 
me-when-I’m-busy manner that directors 




sometimes affect. But when the messen- 
ger whispered “It’s the stork” it is said 
that he shouted “Dismiss” to the company 
and raced away to see the “bird” who had 
arrived at his home. 



“SOLD OUT” 

By Robert M. Finch 
This is no lilt with a sexual tilt for a screen 
play up to date. 

It's only a tale of a publicist pale who 
tempted the hands of fate. 

Of each manuscript rare, from the editor's 
chair , he heard with smiling grace: 
“Your story is good, be it understood ; I’m 
sorry we haven’t the space." 

He dug for days in the Kliegl haze where 
men make reel on reel, 

'Til he found a tale to turn men pale with 
its human-interest appeal. 

How the star did beg, with a broken leg, 
to go on with the scene apace — 
“Your yarn’s a pip," was the editor’s quip; 
“ It’s too bad we haven’t the space." 

For year on year, with many a tear, he 
struggled to please the fates. 

Until, one day, he passed away, and was 
led to the pearly gates. 

Saint Peter alone, from his mighty throne, 
looked down with a pitying face, 

" You can’t enter here," said Heaven’s seer; 
“ you see, we haven’t the space." 

To the realms below, where hell-fires glow, 
the publicist tumbled down. 

On every grate, within the gate, was a 
P-A he knew in town. 

The Devil hissed to the publicist, as he 
looked in vain for a place, 

“The Hell of it here, it doth appear, is 
that we haven’t the space." 



Mac Swain As Dramatic 
Comedian 

T HE announcement that Mack Swain 
has definitely forsaken straight com- 
edy for character comedian roles in 
dramatic productions, and that he will free 
lance in the future, offers food for some in- 
teresting speculation. Mack Swain has 
been so long identified with out and out 
comedy that for the moment the idea is 
somewhat startling. His work in The 
Gold Rush, however indicates the possi- 
bilities that lie in that field. In Valen- 
tino’s new production The Lone Eagle, 
he further demonstrates the opportunities 
that lie in comedy relief in his work as 
the keeper of the post house. And after 
all comedy and drama are often so near 
akin that but a fine line divides them. As 
character comedian Mack Swain certainly 
offers interesting possibilities. 



“Obey that impulse,” says “Life.” Not 
bad advice that, either. Why not try it with 
THE DIRECTOR as well? 



1925 



37 



f MOTMM HCTIIM 

director 



RANDOM THOUGHTS 

By Al Rogell 



A N invitation to write an article for 
The Director magazine is, to my 
L mind, such a welcome opportunity 
that I am assuming the privilege of dilat- 
ing on several aspects of picture-making, 
rather than limiting myself to one particu- 
lar subject. They are all related, however, 
because they all appertain to the making of 
the movies — the vineyard in which we are 
all laboring with heart and soul, so that 
the fruit thereof may be not only pleasing 
but also worth while. 

Why are directors not conceded to have 
the same versatility which the producers 
have finally grudgingly granted to the ac- 
tors? They at last have finally been freed 
from the check-rein which has heretofore 
held them always to a certain type of per- 
formance but the producers, who are our 
bosses as well as their’s, too seldom see 
that any good director can make more than 
one type of pictures and make them well. 

There are, of course, exceptions to this 
as to all other rules ; ordinarily, a man who 
makes a few successful Westerns is due 
to “horse-operas” for the rest of his career 
— at least with the particular studio where 
he registered his success. Sometimes a 
man who makes comedies on one lot may, 
at the expiration of his contract, succeed in 
“selling the idea” to another producer that 
he can make dramas and he may even be 
given the chance ; but this is still a rarity 
in our industry. And yet, the experience 
of the last year or two shows a number of 
successful demonstrations of directorial 
versatility which have seemingly surprised 
everybody but the directors concerned. 

As a matter of fact, a director can give 
more to each type of picture if he is per- 
mitted to vary those types. Keep a man 
on Westerns and he will fall into a certain 
automatic routine ; the same is true if you 
keep him on slapstick comedies, melodra- 
mas or society stories. The temptation to 
slip into the rut is too strong for human 
beings — even those who sit behind the cam- 
era and talk through megaphones. Let the 
man who has been making Westerns do a 
straight society story and you will be sur- 
prised at the virility he gives to it while 
recognizing the necessity for the lighter 
touch. Let the director of society stories 
do an occasional Western and he will add 
the finesse he has acquired. Let the com- 
edy man direct a melodrama and he will 
naturally insert bits of “business” which 
will speed up the action between climactic 
points. And so on, down through the list 
of the various types into which pictures 
have become more or less rigidly classified. 
In other words, change the director’s diet 
occasionally and the result will be healthier 
pictures, which means more real artistry 
and better box office reports. 



(Editor's Note: Al Rogell, despite his 
youth, enjoys one of the most com- 
prehensive backgrounds in the film 
world. His experience includes service 
in every department of the studio — prop- 
erty boy, laboratory man, assistant cam- 
era man, cinematographer, author, adap- 
tor, producer and salesman of his own 
pictures. He is now in Deadwood City, 
shooting two of his own stories for Uni- 
versal.) 



H OW can we work out some kind of 
universal regulation of picture pro- 
jection which varies so much at 
present? 

Any director worth his salt is familiar 
with the problems of the theatre projec- 
tionist and he shoots his picture with those 
problems in mind, along with many other 
factors which guide him in his work. We 
all agree that one of the most important 
technical points before us is the matter of 
tempo — timing of our action and determin- 
ing length of sequences and individual 
scenes to work out dramatic effects by ac- 
celeration or retarding. We shoot a story 
with these things in mind — then some semi- 
amateur projectionist in a semi-amateur 
theatre varies the speed of his machine and 
our picture is ruined. At a recent meeting 
of the Society of Motion Picture Engineers, 
its standards committee advocated a uni- 
versal set speed for projection of 80 feet 
per minute. As a matter of fact, most 
theatres show pictures at a speed of 85 to 
90 feet per minute — in these days of long 
shows with ten or eleven reels of film and 
various entertainment acts. If the house 
manager or the theatre operator, or both, 
have a social engagement after the show, 
they will often set this speed up a couple 
of notches and more havoc ensues. 

Let us take an idea from the music 
rolls, where the men who produce the mu- 
sic, and who may be compared to the di- 
rectors of the films, give definite instruc- 
tions regarding the speed with which the 
roll should be turned. These numbers are 
marked along the side of the roll and the 
wise man who plays a roll through his 
player-piano follows the timing set down 
by the artist who originally registered his 
expression on this same roll. 

When we shoot a scene, we know the 
speed at which it should be projected for 
the maximum artistic effect. Let us, there- 
fore, indicate these changing speeds to the 
projectionist — who corresponds to the man 
at the player-piano. In an inconspicuous 
corner of the little cards can be printed 
the speed in feet-per-minute at which the 
ensuing action should be projected until a 
change is desired. Of course, the human 



factor will always depart from instruc- 
tions, but at least we can know that we 
have set the proper speeds for the different 
parts of the picture — then, if the operator 
varies from these instructions, the responsi- 
bility is his, not ours. Fortunately, the 
vast majority of projectionists are consci- 
entious artisans who will co-operate for 
the best results if given definite instructions 
of this nature. 

I F MOTION pictures are closely re- 
lated to all the earlier expressive arts 
— as we all unanimously agree — 
would it not be wise for us to follow a 
practice of the choreographic ballet? The 
dancers tell a story swiftly in pantomime, 
but at frequent intervals there is a tableau 
— what might almost be called a “still” 
picture. These tableux not only rest the 
mind of the audience for a moment — they 
also add tremendously to the effect of 
beauty as expressed in the entire ballet 
pantomime. 

It seems to me that we who make mo- 
tion pictures can get an important sugges- 
tion from this ballet practice. Among its 
other functions, the screen serves to fulfill 
the audience-desire for beauty generically 
and the occasional tableau in the midst of 
action will achieve the same results on the 
screen as on the ballet stage. 

Of course, it must always be borne in 
mind that motion pictures must move. In 
other words, a film should not be merely 
a succession of beautiful tableaux; but, 
judiciously interspersed, they will contri- 
bute a decided addition to our movies. 

S INCE I have been in pictures, I have 
heard many long debates regarding 
the most advantageous method of re- 
hearsing actors in front of the camera. 
There is one school of directors who tell 
their people just enough of the action and 
the story to carry them through a particu- 
lar set-up. Then, there is the other group 
who go over the entire story with their 
players and who — if unrestrained by the 
present policies of production regulation — 
would rehearse through it and then re- 
rehearse it, seequence by sequence. To 
me, the compromise method seems the best 
from every point of view. After your 
actors have read the script, which the di- 
rector has approved before shooting, it 
seems to me it is necessary only to re- 
hearse sequences as units, with additional 
directorial helps to the players on the in- 
dividual scenes. This is a compromise 
method which escapes the bugaboo of the 
ever-mounting overhead and, at the same 
time, presents the story to the players in 
portions large enough to give them the ad- 



38 



©irector 



September 




A Famous Piano 

/^rFamous People 



'T ' HE Music Lover’s Shop ... so widely known 
as the artistic rendezvous for things that com- 
plement the home beautiful ... is proud to offer 
in its collections of masterpieces the famous Chas. 
M. Stieff, Inc., Piano. 

This noted instrument has been recognized by East- 
ern critics as the Standard in Pianos since 1842. 
And it is indeed fitting that such a Shop as Rich- 
ardson’s should be selected to represent this great 
achievement of the craftsman’s skill. 

Screenland’s discriminating taste for the best will 
confirm Richardson’s judgment in its representation 
of the Chas. M. Stieff, Inc., Piano. 

To be had in Uprights, 

Qrand or Piano Players 



Richardsons 

. _ Jhe Music Lovers' Shop 
NOW- at 730 West Seventh St 




Radiolas. ... V ictro las 
... Imported Art Cab - 
inets, products of the 
Music Lover’s Shop, 
are to be found in the 
Southland’s finest 
homes . 




1925 



39 



r MOTION PlfllTU 

director 



vantage of perspective. And it is only 
with this advantage, that the actors can 
give their work the best artistry and in- 
telligence they possess. 

There is a seemingly increasing prac- 
tice for companies, especially on location, 
to make twin pictures — to my mind, 
this is an excellent idea. It possesses 
not only the advantages of economy 
which immediately suggest themselves, 



but it also gives the director and the play- 
ers an opportunity to reveal their versa- 
tility, which must benefit the pictures as 
well as the individuals. It provides, in a 
measure, the same opportunities which were 
present in the early days of the motion 
picture stock companies, when the leading 
players in a picture of one day would have 
just bits in a picture shot the following 
day. It gives the director a chance to turn 



out two good pictures with a given group 
of players, rather than just one. Granted 
that it is harder — the main thing we want 
is opportunity — and so the creative director 
hails with delight this increasing practice 
of the studios. In shifting from one pro- 
duction to the other, it freshens his mind 
and the minds of his players and brings 
out the most in everybody, which must 
inevitably result in a higher standard of art. 



ART AND THE DRAMA 



S OME of our greatest men and scholars 
of profound academic achievement 
have acknowledged to us, from time 
to time, that the drama has been a great 
factor and contribution to the history of 
mankind. That the drama has aided our 
cultural progress in the forward stride of 
civilization is a recognized and established 
fact. Today the drama is a positive and 
assured educational institution, and is con- 
sidered an integral part of our cultural 
needs. 

In just a brief survey of our early civili- 
zation we find that Greece was not only 
the centre, but the cradle of our civiliza- 
tion. It was Greece and Greece only 
which, because of her supreme appreciation 
of the “beautiful,” later became the foun- 
tain and origin of all subsequent European 
Art. It was this love of the beautiful 
that gave birth to finer morality, and true 
civilization. 

According to the Greek philosophy, be- 
fore one could be considered a gentleman 
it was necessary to be beautiful. But the 
Greek term, Beauty, had a wider signific- 
ance, it implied beauty of the soul as well 
as material beauty. Socrates himself, one 
of the ablest minds that the world has 
known, went so far as to say that the man 
who is good must also be beautiful. Yet, 
property and wealth signified little the 
Athenians. A man’s personal worth was 
the true determining factor, and they 
summed it up in their phrase, “both good 
and beautiful” ( kalos K'agathos ) . 

Holborn’s Theory 

Stoughton Holborn, one of our foremost 
lecturers on Art and Archaeology, a mas- 
ter identified with Oxford and Cambridge, 
in his treatise, The Need For Art In Life, 
tells us that is was the love of the beauti- 
ful that inspired the astounding achieve- 
ments of the Greek. It was they who 
crystallized our law, our moral ethics, lit- 
erature, drama and art. 

And thus we find that the drama was 
first conceived in the Greek Art, which is 
the point of the present discussion. It is 
impossible in so short a space to give a 
detailed description of the drama, — the 
theatre, — the most consummate form of 



By Clara Phileo Shecter 

literary art the world has even seen. 

The Greek drama was renowned for its 
choice of themes, and the grandeur of its 
form, diction, and atmosphere. Or, we 
might turn to its wonderful unity, a unity 
which was not material or mechanical, but 
the result of the fundamental principles of 
beauty, which aim at the glorification of 
mankind. 

And so we have, with the glowing 
achievements of Greece, the inception of 
the true Drama as a significant portion of 
her Art. The Drama is like a vast foun- 
tain from it flow the great knowledge and 
teaching that inspired and enlightened the 
world. It was the drama which was the 
great teacher that enabled Greece to pre- 
sent a subtle artistic form with a supreme 
intellect. 

The Prolific Age 

During the Golden Century — the age of 
learning and power — in Athens, the num- 
ber of dramas, the highest literary pro- 
duction ever conceived by the mind of 
man, was, at a low estimate, at least four 
thousand. The free population of Athens 
was only about that of Toledo, which has 
a population of a little over a quarter of 
a million people. The Greek drama was 
said to be superior even to the Elizabethan 
drama, both in quality and in presentation. 

In common parlance, how does the drama 
serve as a factor in our cultural develop- 
ment? The drama caters to the objective: 
it expresses human emotion. By a true 
presentation of characters, we visualize all 
that is beautiful in contrast to the sordid 
and thwarted emotions. It is the drama 
that is the great teacher of man’s relation- 
ship to his environment. Man must have 
an environment that is beautiful in which 
to grow. The drama always was consid- 
ered the teacher of a morality, therefore we 
should strive to maintain the Greek con- 
ception of “beauty,” for the loss of the 
artistic may cause damage to our whole 
nature. 

Now the new drama — the silent drama 
— does it reflect the spirit of art? Does 
it minister to art? Indeed, it does. What 
unexplored fields of beauty and art it un- 
veils to us! What infinite possibilities the 



“magic screen” has made known to us! 
What marvelous achievements of science 
and art it brings to us! To think that a 
click of the camera brings to our view 
beautiful Venice, scenes from glorious 
Florence, the gigantic Alps, the dashing 
waves, the planets, the whole universe to 
behold and to admire, and, in addition, the 
portrayal of human feeling and emotion! 

For a paltry sum — the fraction of a 
dollar — we find ourselves seated comfort- 
ably in a gorgeous amphitheatre, viewing 
the treasures of the universe, Art, Beauty. 
This wonderful achievement of science 
makes it beyond human comprehension to 
conceive the vastness and the beauty that 
the “silver screen” has to offer. The im- 
mortal camera and the skill of the human 
hand and mind bring literature and art 
within the reach of the poor and the rich. 
Those of us who love travel, and desire 
the knowledge of places with view to study 
of customs, locales and people, but lack 
the material means, are now able to find 
some source of satisfaction by frequenting 
the motion picture theatre, where we have 
an opportunity to view the drama and the 
spectacular events of the day, thus giving 
all people an avenue for study and obser- 
vation. Some of our motion picture pres- 
entations are produced at a cost of thous- 
ands of dollars; some of the productions 
closely approach the seven figure mark, and 
yet the rich and the poor alike are able 
to enjoy this beautiful luxury of Art. 



HOlly 3678 



EARL A. EVERETT 

ATTORNEY AT LAW 
General Practice 

204 A. Z. Taft Bldg. 

Santa Monica Bl<vd. at IVestern Ave. 
Hollywood 



40 



MOTION MITIM 

director 



September 



The Directory 



Slow Motion 

W HY wouldn’t a comedy 
done entirely in slow 
motion be a scream?” 
asks a reader of The Direc- 
tor in an inquiry concerning 
how slow motion effects are 
obtained, and adds, “Just shut 
your eyes and imagine one of 
Lloyd Hamilton’s comedies in 
slow motion.” 

The question, being parenthetic to the 
main question concerning slow motion, no 
attempt has been made to answer it here, 
but it may afford room for interesting 
speculation and we shall be glad to hear 
further on the possibilities that may be 
contained in that query or the objections 
which may exist rendering it impractical. 

The original question together with the 
answer by Foster Goss, of the American 
Society of Cinematographers, follows: 

Editor, The Director: 

Please tell me how slow motion is ob- 
tained. Is that done by slowing up the 
camera or by some special machine; or is 
it accomplished by projecting the picture 
faster? 

Why wouldn’t a comedy done entirely in 
slow motion be a scream? Something short 
and foolish. Just shut your eyes and im- 
agine one of Lloyd Hamilton’s comedies in 
slow motion. Mrs. E. A. G. . 

A nswer by Foster Goss 
The standard normal speed of taking 
motion pictures, as recognized by the 
American Society of Cinematographers, is 
60 feet per minute — that is, one foot per 
second. In turn, each foot of film con- 
tains sixteen “frames,” each “frame” being 
an individual picture, which means that 
sixteen images are registered on a continu- 
ous strip of film every second. This is 
considered normal taking speed. 

The standard projection speed recog- 
nized by the A.S.C. is 80 feet per minute. 
This is the standard recently adopted in 
place of the former standard of 60 feet 
per minute which has become ill adapted 
to the continued improvement in projec- 
tion mechanisms. After a great deal of 
experimenting, the 60-80 ratio has been 
finally determined upon as being the ideal 
basis for taking and projecting motion pic- 
tures. 

All of which may seem more or less 
irrelevant to the question but helps in es- 
tablishing a definite premise by which the 
basic principles involved in slow motion 
may be the more readily understood. 

Contrary to what the popular concep- 
tion may be, slow motion pictures are made 
not by slowing down the normal rate of 
taking speed, but, actually, by increasing 
that speed. The increase of speed in ex- 
cess of 60 feet per minute is in direct 
proportion to the degree of slow motion 
desired, with the result that when the 
picture taken at this accelerated speed is 
projected at the normal rate of 80 feet 
per minute the series of “frames” which 



A source of authentic 
information concerning 
^ the making of sp- 
* Motion Pictures * 

have been taken or exposed at briefer in- 
tervals give a more detailed record of the 
movements of the character or object pho- 
tographed. The result is that where nor- 
mally the audience would observe the com- 
pleted action as a whole and as a single 
act, by taking and showing a much greater 
number of pictures of that action, each 
separate and detailed step leading up to 
the completed act is revealed. 

While slow motion may be obtained in 
varying degrees and incidental effects made 
without changing cameras, simply by 
speeding up the camera, enough to slow 
down the action at that particular point, 
the extreme slow motion effects are usu- 
ally otbained by the use of a special high 
speed attachment permitting acceleration to 
many times normal taking speed. 

Going to the opposite extreme, the rapid- 
fire action which characterizes comedies, 
chase scenes, etc., is created by slowing 
dozen the taking speed with the result that 
fewer images are registered and the speed 
of the action is seemingly greatly acceler- 
ated, when the picture is projected at the 
normal rate of 80 feet per minute. 

Foster Goss, 
American Society of 
Cinematographers 



Old Ships 

F ROM a letter touching on several 
matters, pertinent to the magazine but 
having no direct bearing to this de- 
partment, has been taken the following 
question the answers to which have been 
prepared by Frank Lloyd and by a research 
man who is in truth a rara avis in motion 
pictures — a man who shrinks from publici- 
ty; and requests that his name not be used. 

How do they obtain the old galleys and 
ancient ships such as were used in The 
Sea Hawk, etc.? Do they make them or 
are they “faked,” and where do they get 
the proper specifications? 

Answer by Frank Lloyd 

To obtain the four ships necessary for 
this picture, we bought four hulls ranging 
from 95 feet in length to 285 feet. These 
were brought to San Pedro, stripped and 
rebuilt to resemble sixteenth century Eng- 
lish, Spanish and Moorish vessels. The 
ships were reconstructed by crews working 
three shifts a day for ninety days, at an 
expense of $285,000. Each ship was made 



seaworthy and all but one were 
propelled by their own power 
and averaged seven miles an 
hour. However, when the 
ships were used in action, they 
were actually rowed and sail- 
ing and no motive power was 
used. The Sea Hawk fleet 
represents the most pretentious 
motion picture ship-building 
program ever undertaken, and 
incidentally required a greater 
expense in their construction alone than is 
necessary for the entire usual super-pro- 
duction. 

Frank Lloyd 



While the expedient of using a minia- 
ture ship is cometimes employed when the 
script calls for the destruction of the ship, 
in most instances actual vessels are used. 
Sometimes by building the necessary super- 
structure relatively modern ships, 'small 
schooners, etc., may be converted into 
semblances of antique vessels. The par- 
ticular problem involved, the importance 
of the ship in the picture, whether it is 
used for close shots or always at a distance 
all enter into such an equation. 

To be specific with respect to the 
question asked, the galleys used in The 
Sea Hawk were actually built and neces- 
sarily so, for a great deal of the action of 
that picture evolved around them. Sim- 
ilarly in the production of Ben Hur Ro- 
man galleys were actually constructed in 
Italy for the important sequences when 
Ben Hur makes his spectacular rise from 
his lot as galley slave to one of high Ro- 
man rank. When Charles Ray produced 
Miles Standish he built at considerable 
expense an exact replica of the Mayflower 
— above the water line. Inasmuch as the 
craft was built on the studio lot and never 
entered the water, details below the water 
line were not necessary, of course, and 
when water was necessary the space around 
the ship was flooded. But the interesting 
detail here is the fact that the ship was 
built, complete in every detail as to super- 
structure and rigging. 

The matter of getting “proper specifica- 
tions” for the construction of such ships 
falls into the province of the research de- 
partment, either that conducted by the 
studio where the production is being made, 
or by one of the independent research bu- 
reaus which make it a business of collect- 
ing specific information on all sorts of sub- 
jects. Research is an important feature 
of motion picture production today, an im- 
portance which is largely attributable to 
the fact that the American audience is be- 
coming so thoroughly educated by the real- 
ism of motion pictures as to demand a 
reasonable degree of accuracy and authen- 
ticity. 



1925 



©irector 



41 



“The Lost World” 

H ERE’S a query regarding The Lost 
World, and one that brings up an 
interesting point. In procuring 
the effects on the prehistoric plateau it is 
quite obvious that certain “tricks of the 
trade” had to be employed, so obvious that 
to afford a brief and general explanation 
of those tricks adds to the interest rather 
than detracting from the naturalness of the 
illusion. Hence such a question may be 
deemed to have a logical place in this de- 
partment and the answer by Harry O. 
Hoyt, who directed the production, is given 
in a short and sketchy summary of the 
general principals involved. 

Editor The Director: 

Won’t someone please explain in a 
general way how it was possible to 
create such realistic effects in The Lost 
World, particularly the scenes on the 
prehistoric plateau where animals 
which we all know have been extinct 
for thousands of years were made to 
appear in lifelife naturalness? How 
do they do it? 

G. E. I , 

St. Paul, Minn. 

Answer by Mr. Hoyt 
To tell in a couple of hundred words 
how we made The Lost World is an even 
harder task than confronted us in making 
the picture. In short, it was an extension 
of the animated cartoon idea, except that, 
instead of animating drawings, we animated 
figures. This process naturally called for 
multiple exposure and in some cases we 
had as high as nine exposures on the same 
piece of film. The matter of timing was 
tremendously important — as, for example, 
in the fire scenes, we had to animate the 
animals and then animate the fire, so that 
the speed with which the smoke rose would 
not be too fast for the movement of the 
animals, and both of these in turn had to 
be co-ordinated in time with the move- 
ments of the human beings on still another 
exposure. 

The entire picture was made on the 
United Studio lot. The animals were ab- 
solutely correct from a scientific basis, 
from data furnished to us by the American 
Museum of Natural History and the Brit- 
ish Museum. 

To make the movements of the prehis- 
toric animals seem less grotesque, we in- 
troduced modern pets and wild animals 
into the picture before we came to the 
prehistoric plateau, thus securing not only 
an animal unity for the whole picture, but 
also shooting close-ups of the movements 
of familiar animals, revealing their jerky 
nature, so that when the animated mon- 
sters moved, their actions seemed more 
natural because of the preceding demon- 
stration. Harry O. Hoyt 



There are lots of ways in which you can 
spend $2.50 to much less advantage than in 
a year’s subscription to THE DIRECTOR. 




Individuality 



. . . . that distinctive touch which stamps a home 
with the personality of its occupant . . . that little 
touch of artistry, subtle, intangible, yet so reflective 
of the characteristics of the owner . . . just the 
right blending of colors ... a drape here, a piece 
of period furniture there ... a picture hung with 
seeming irrevelence, yet in such a manner that it just 
fits into the scheme ... an inconspicuous piece of 
bric-a-brac or ornament that adds a distinctive note 
. . . such is interior decorating the Behannesey way, 
in which expert knowledge and experience are 
blended with artistry; as, for example, the individu- 
ality which has been injected into the decorating of 
such homes as those of 

Mabel Normand Jack Dempsey 

Mayor Cryer Viola Dana 

Lew Cody Percy Eisen 

Vic Schertzinger 

Behannesey’s Art Studio 

Interior Decorators of Individuality 

HOlly 3936 1122 North Western Avenue 

Hollywood 






42 

THUNDERING SILENCE 

(Continued from Page 26) 

"I have learned of its existence,” she re- 
plied, “but it has disappeared. And, I am 
positive the police didn’t find it.” 

Chapin nodded thoughtfully and then 
he looked at her and said ; “The money 
was in a tin-box, under Morgan’s arm, 
when I left the room.” 

Claudia leaned forward with interest. 
“But, when I came back into the room, 
the box had disappeared.” 

She studied the floor a moment and 
frowned. His explanation was simple, but 
it was too simple to ring true. She didn’t 
believe him, and she let him know it as 
she said : 

“You’d have some difficulty in making 
the police believe that.” 

“It’s true, nevertheless,” he insisted. 
“Furthermore, I would have been entitled 
too keep it — perfectly justified. It was 
my money, or at least money that I had 
earned. I’d worked damned hard for 
every cent of it.” 

She listened and smiled as she shrugged 
her pretty shoulders. “You were an im- 
postor,” she reminded him, bluntly. “It 
might be well to keep that in mind, Mr. 
Chapin. The law would take that into 
consideration. Perhaps you did make it, 
but you made it for John Morgan. The 
world knew you as John Morgan and 
every business transaction handled by you 



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was supposed to have been negotiated by 
the man whose name you were using. It 
was a perfectly amicable arrangement. You 
both agreed to it, and it is assumed that 
you were in your right mind when you 
made the agreement.” 

He realized she was speaking the truth, 
and it didn’t please him a great deal. The 
more he pondered over this entire business 
the more convinced he became that it had 
been a foolish game for him to play. He 
hadn’t benefited much by the deal, and just 
at present, it looked as though he stood a 
fairly good chance of getting into trouble 
before it was all cleared up. Finally he 
looked at her and said ; 

“What do you intend doing?” 

She had her answer ready, and smiled as 
she calmly replied; “I intend to remain 
here, as Mrs. John Morgan — wind up his 
affairs — take care of all the little details — 
dispose of the estate — collect the $200,000 
from my deceased husband’s insurance pol- 
icy — and then say au revoir.” 

Chapin smiled at the irony of it all. He 
couldn’t help it. He realized that Clau- 
dia Carlstedt was a very clever woman, 
in fact he had underestimated her shrewd- 
ness. She was playing a very daring game 
and he could not help but admire her 
bravery. The stakes were worth it, but 
the danger in case she failed was indeed 
great. Her chances of success were not 
to be discounted. Only one individual 
stood between this woman and her goal. 
There was only one who could prevent 
her from carrying out her plans without 
fear of being detected by the police. And 
that one person was Howard Chapin. It 
might be well to remind her of that before 
she started. 

“I presume you are aware that these 
plans can be considerably altered?” He 
said this quite confidently. 

“Oh, don’t be so silly: of course I do.” 
And her smile was quite tantalizing. 

But Chapin appeared to ignore it, and 
after a momentary hesitation, he met her 
gaze with a grave countenance as he re- 
marked ; “One word from me to the police, 
would have an unpleasant effect, I’m sure.” 
She threw back her head and laughed 
heartily. But, you’re not so stupid, I be- 
lieve.” Then she became serious. ’’Pris- 
ons are such disagreeable places.” 

Again she was right. Both Morgan and 
he had broken the law by entering into 
such a strange pact. Morgan was safe : 
he was beyond the reach of earthly punish- 
ment; but Howard Chapin was a living 
personage, and at the present moment, in 
very good health. However, he was not 
going to let her hold all the good cards. 
There was no reason why he shouldn’t 
do a little bluffing, for she had been doing 
quite a little of it since he came in. 

“Suppose I decide to run all risks and 
accept whatever punishment which might 
result therefrom?” he asked her. 

“I should then feel very sorry for you,” 
she replied sternly. “There are others in- 



September 

terested, and I fear they would not be 
very lenient with you.” She rose and clamlv 
faced him with a challenging look. 

He was silent for a moment. Then he 
stood up and studied her with an amused 
expression. He admitted to himself that 
he was puzzled. It was the most baffling 
mystery of which he had any knowledge, 
and it had few equals even in fiction. He 
was positive that this beautiful creature 
was not Mrs. John Morgan. That much 
evidence was in his possession. To con- 
vince others, would be more difficult, for 
Claudia Carlstedt and Mrs. John Morgan 
were exactly alike. In fact, so closely did 
they resemble each other that they might 
easily be taken for twins. 

“How long have you been here?” he 
asked abruptly. 

“I came here early this evening.” 

“And the servants? .... Ricketts — and 
Wenzel the chauffeur?” 

“They left soon after I arrived.” And 
then, as she noted his curious glance. “Ser- 
vants can always be purchased.” 

“But they usually put a price on their 
secrecy, too,” he reminded her. 

She smiled. “You do not seem to realize 
that I am not seeking privacy. I came 
here as Mrs. John Morgan, and the serv- 
ants received me as the head of this house- 
hold. The deception is quite as complete 
as your masquerade.” Then, as she glanced 
aside reminiscently; “Why, poor old Rick- 
etts was so pleased to see me that he fell 
over a cloisonne vase. And, when I in- 
formed him that his services would not be 
required here any longer, he was unable 
to control his grief. However, I was 
able quickly to dry his tears with some 
handsomely-engraved gold notes, which 
will secure him against poverty for the re- 
mainder of his days.” 

Chapin paced the floor, and pondered. 
This woman was no amateur. It was plain 
that she had deliberately planned every- 
thing before the Empress of India arrived 
at San Pedro. She had carefully plotted 
this whole business before she booked pas- 
sage on the steamer at Manila. 

“You’re evidently playing this very dan- 
gerous game — alone,” he mused. 

“Perhaps.” 

Then, after a considerable pause, during 
which time she made a careful study of 
the man who had stopped abruptly in 
front of her, she spoke. “I hope to carry 
out this entire scheme successfully, pro- 
viding I can count on your silence.” 

He nodded curiously. 

“How much will that secrecy cost me?” 
she added, in a business-like manner. 

Chapin was silent a moment as he 
glanced aside. She stood motionless, 
looking into his eyes and waiting for his 
reply. Then he came a step nearer her, 
and staring straight into her upturned 
countenance, said; “It will cost you more 
than you would be willing to pay.” 

“I will make any reasonable sacrifice,” 
she informed him. 

(To be continued in the October Number) 



1925 



J MOTION *K TORI 

director 



43 




mm 

R © 
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— it’s just a matter of business and horse-sensei 



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and effort to you / 

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and surely/ 

— for example : 



Director X made $37,500 last year. 
Publicity brought him a year’s contract 



f 



at $125,000 — and with a more important producer# 

Scenarist Y averaged $500 a week last year. 
Publicity made him a director 
and his salary is $1,000 per week/ 

Actor Z wanted to come back to the screen. 
Publicity on four pictures got 
him a stellar unit at a big studio/ 

-you can easily learn who they are and what it cost them, 
because their campaigns were conducted by yours truly/ 

— let’s talk it over# 



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44 



¥ MOTION MTTVU 

director 



THE BARNSTORMER 

(Continued from Page 22) 



for the depot, Mr. Reed, the proprietor, 
advised us to wait and ride down in the 
hotel bus. 

He was so insistent that eight of us 
waited and rode in his old bus, although 
the station was only a few blocks away. 
On reaching the station, the driver de- 
manded two dollars. 

I indignantly refused, informing him 
that, as we didn’t pay going up, we would 
not pay coming down. He replied: “We 
don’t charge going up,” and to my protest 
that there was no sign in his bus reading 
“fare twenty-five cents,” he declared: 
“Well, we don’t have to put up any 
sign and I want two dollars quick!” 

I advised him to “go to and get it.” 

He left me but immediately returned 
with Reed, the hotel man, who started to 
upbraid me as an evader of just bills. I 
held to my opinion that the charge was 
unjust and they both withdrew, but as I 
was watching the baggage go on the train, 
a man stepped up to me saying, “Your 
name Frank Cooley?” 

On my admitting it was, he stated, 
"1 his man” — indicating the bus driver — 
“has a bill against you for two dollars and 
you will have to pay it or you don’t leave 
town. ’ To my declaration that I \vould 
pay nothing, he informed me that I was 
under arrest. 

I called to my wife, who was on the 
train. She opened the car window and I 
handed her the bank roll with instructions 
to take the company back to Phoenix, put 
them up at the Mills hotel and await de- 
\ elopments as I intended to see the thing 
through. The marshal then put me in the 
same hotel bus and we started to jail. 
Suddenly he turned savagely on me with 

\ ou’re a of a man ; why don’t you 

pay your bills?” I replied that I tried to 
when they were legitimate. “Well,” he 
said, “this man pays a license and is en- 
titled to the protection of the law.” 

That gave me a great opening and I 
dramatically replied, “I am a citizen of 
the United States and am also entitled to 
the protection of the law. You think you’re 
right, I think I’m right, so we will see 
this thing through. If you win I’ll have 
to take the consequences; if I win I’ll 
own this horse and rig. Now shut up, as I 
have nothing more to say.” 

We drove in silence for a few blocks, 
then the marshal whispered to the driver, 
who turned his horse around and using his 
whip, got us back to the station in time for 
me to catch the train, without another 
word being spoken. 

I had my foot on the train step when a 
little man ran up to me all out of breath, 
grasped my hand, saying: “That’s the way 
to do it ; without a warrant they had no 
right to arrest you, but they might have 
done it anyway. I was running right along 
after you, however, and would have had 



you right out if they had. These fellows 
are so used to preying on one-lungers that 
they don’t seem to realize that there are 
men who have the nerve to demand honest 
treatment.” 

I was grateful but careful to say noth- 
ing that would prompt the marshal, who 
was watching me with an ugly scowl, to 
make any move that might make me miss 
the train. I was mightily relieved when 
we finally started. 

Going back to Phoenix was like going 
home. The people welcomed us and we 
made a little money on the week, using 
East Lynn and Sapho three nights each. 
Our new advance, man, named Edgar Rice, 
an ex-soldier just back from the Philip- 
pines, had cut the Mills hotel on account of 
increase in rates and engaged rooms in pri- 
vate homes, arranging for us to board at 
“Coffee Al’s,” the best restaurant in town, 
excellent and very expensive. A1 must have 
been feeling very liberal when he allowed 
my advance man to persuade him to agree 
to board eleven actors three meals a day for 
a dollar apiece and no restriction on or- 
dering. 

At the very first meal one actor ate over 
a dollar and a quarter’s worth. The wait- 
ers would give us their check which we 
did not have to present, and we would 
walk out leisurely — very leisurely, as we 
were too full for speed. Wednesday even- 
ing as I was coming out of the restaurant, 
after a very excellent dinner, I noticed A1 
and his partner in earnest conversation. 
As about all the company were in gorging 
themselves at the time, I easilv surmised 
we were the subject of the consultation and 
so asked the partners what the trouble 
was. They denied there was anv trouble, 
at first, but I was persistent and jokinglv 
accused them of being afraid they would 
not get their money. My bill would be 
sixtv-six dollars at the end of the week. 
This brought a replv. “I want to be a 
good fellow,” said Al. “but some of your 
women order three kinds of dessert. I 
wouldn’t kick if they ate what they or- 
dered but they only nibble at the second 
and third dessert, just enough to make us 
throw them out. Now pineapple, for in- 
stance, comes a long wav and freights are 
high.” 

I assured him it would be quite satis- 
factory to restrict everyone to one dessert 
and inquired if that was all that was wor- 
rying him. He reached behind his safe 
and brought to view a fairlv good silver- 
handled umbrella, saying, “Well, while we 
are talking, I might mention that I had a 
company boarding here last year and the 
manager, a man by the name of Marsten, 
gave me a hard luck story and this um- 
brella for a seventy-five dollar board bill.” 
I eased their fears by paying them thirty- 
three dollars for Monday, Tuesday and 
Wednesday, and promised to pay eleven 



September 

dollars at the end of each day. This pleased 
them so much that Al declared he didn’t 

give a how much dessert the women 

ordered. We certainly lived well that 
week. 

On Thursday Mowrey hailed me from 
across the street. He smiled all over as 
he yelled, “Good bye, Frank; I’m going to 
Los Angeles on the hog train,” and 
laughed heartily at his own joke. I didn’t 
understand what he was driving at and 
asked him to explain. “I ride on top of 
the cars,” he said, “and have a long pole 
with which I poke the cows if they try to 
lay down. I get to Los Angeles and get 
two dollars a day besides.” 

I kind of envied him as I was not sure 
how we were going to get there. As a 
matter of fact he made the trip O.K., and 
landed with money in his pocket, but if 
he had stayed with me and behaved him- 
self he would have cut in on quite a bit of 
money in the next few years. But just at 
that time I was trying to figure a way 
home. 

The week in Phoenix was fair — in com- 
parison to other weeks — a little over three 
hundred dollars, all mine, as rent and 
lights were furnished by the street car 
company. They did not give me the 
twenty dollars bonus, however, and I still 
owed a balance on the tickets they had 
furnished to bring us from San Francisco 
which I now paid. The railroad fare from 
Phoenix to Los Angeles amounted to two 
hundred and twenty-five dollar's. The 
Santa Fe agreed to allow me to buy the 
tickets on the installment plan, fifty dol- 
lars down at Phoenix, fifty at Prescott, our 
next stop, fifty at Jerome, fifty at Needles 
and twenty-five at San Bernardino. I had 
to let my advance man have money as we 
would not see him again until we reached 
San Bernardino as the intervening towns 
were to be one and two-night stands, so 
after paying all bills and fifty on the ticket, 
I had about sixty dollars in my pocket. 

As we boarded the train for Prescott 
Joe stood by evidently hoping I would 
weaken and take him along, but we all 
figured that he and Mowrey had jinxed us 
so he was left in Phoenix. A few weeks 
later a circus struck town. Joe caught on 
and he also reached Los Angeles long be- 
fore we did. 

We reached Prescott O.K. and on the 
way to the hotel I looked around, as was 
my habit, to see what kind of a showing 
our advance man had given us. I saw one 
half sheet litho tacked on a fence, that 
was all — not very encouraging. Almost 
the entire town had recently burned down. 
About the first thing we saw was two solid 
blocks of tents and every one a saloon, 
but the theatre and one hotel and a few 
stores were still standing. 

As soon as we were settled at the hotel 
I looked up the reserved seat sale. It was 
practically nil and the clerk’s statement 
that the people were not much on reserv- 
ing their seats in advance, brought me 



1925 

small comfort. As the actors had drawn 
some on the train, the bank roll was now 
just thirty-five dollars. 

The town showed no signs of life, sa- 
loons deserted, stores empty and hardly 
anyone on the streets, and I had to pay 
fifty dollars on the railroad tickets before 
we could get on the train. 

This was the first time I really felt 
whipped. I went back to the hotel and 
stayed there until show time, relying on 
the boys to get things ready. Even then I 
didn’t go near the front door nor take the 
trouble to get acquainted with the man- 
ager; told one of the boys to go on the 
door and let it go at that. I put on my 
makeup and drifted up on the stage and, 
as was the custom, just before the start of 
the first act, I looked through the peep hole 
in the curtain, more from habit than any- 
thing else, and was startled to see a full 
house — a full house just as I was ready to 
tell the actors they would have to tele- 
graph home for money to get out of town. 
I called my wife and allowed her to feast 
her eyes on the sight. 

Right away we began to speculate on 
the amount of money out there. I thought 
around one hundred and fifty dollars; the 
missus thought ninety-five would be nearer 
to it. We had been charging twenty-five, 
fifty and seventy-five everywhere except 
Phoenix but I hadn’t taken the trouble to 
inquire what the prices were here. 

The actors were all on their toes as this 
was the first crowded house w’e had seen. 
As a result the show went very well and 
the people were pleased. 

The show over, I went out to the box 
office, made myself known to the manager 
and told him I was ready to settle up. On 
the manager’s desk, I noticed a stack of 
twenty-dollar pieces with some silver near 
and a smaller pile of money a little further 
over. I assumed this pile was the night’s 
receipts; paid no attention to the other pile 
as I thought the stack of twenties was a 
brass paper weight. So when the manager 
gave me a statement and pointed to what I 
had taken to be a brass paper weight, with 
“There’s yours; count it and see if it is 
correct,” I had hard work to keep from 
shouting. 

I noticed by the statement that our 
prices were fifty, seventy-five and one dol- 
lar, higher than we had ever played to, 
and the gross receipts for that night, three 
hundred and sixty-six dollars and forty 
cents. My share was sixty-six and two- 
thirds per cent of this. That was the first 
time I had ever played on such terms nor 
have I ever since — or two hundred and 
forty-four dollars and twenty-five cents. I 
controlled myself with much effort, signed 
the house statement with a trembling hand, 
put the money in my pocket, and making 
some foolish remark about Sapho probably 
doing better on the next night, said good 
evening to him. 

I walked out of his office with much 
dignity as if a good house was only what I 



^director 

was used to, but as soon as the door was 
shut I hurried to the dressing room where 
my wife was waiting for me and nearly 
scared her to death with my bunch of gold. 
I guess she thought I had held up a bank. 
We went home feeling mighty good that 
night and the next day I paid a hundred 
dollars on the railroad tickets, sent fifty 
to Francis and Valentine, the printers — I 
owed them over a hundred— and divided 
the balance between the actors. 

The second night we played Sapho to 
three hundred and eighty-eight dollars. 
The manager was so pleased that he coaxed 
me to stay another night, really against my 
judgment, as we were due in Jerome, but 
as I had failed to get Flagstaff for Thurs- 
day and we were due to lose two days, I 
allowed the fact that if I could change 
Jerome to Thursday, put Wednesday in 
Prescott, I would lose only one day, per- 
suaded me to agree. I called up Jerome 
and the manager consented to the change 
but with very poor grace. I ought to have 
called the change off right there, but 
didn’t. 

We played The Story of Inex for our 
third night in Prescott and as we had no 
real way of reaching the public with the 
news of our longer stay, the receipts 
dropped to fifty-five dollars and the man- 
ager squealed like a hurt child; wanted 
me to let him take his expenses out and 
give me what would be left, about ten 
dollars. I couldn’t see it and demanded 
my full percentage, which I finally re- 
ceived. The next morning we were on 
our way to Jerome. I had paid the bal- 
ance on the railroad tickets, give*! the 
actors a little more and still had money in 
my pocket. 

I found the manager anything but cor- 
dial in Jerome. In fact, he would hardly 
speak to me at first and threatened not to 
play the show at all ; said there had been a 
two hundred and fifty dollar advance sale 
the day before and that we would have 
played to over four hundred dollars, but 
now the people were sore and we wouldn’t 
do any business. He was partially right, 
for we only did eighty-seven dollars. How- 
ever, I didn’t feel so bad ; I had my ticket 
clear to Los Angeles and two hundred dol- 
lars in my pocket. 

We had to lose Friday night in getting 
to Needles, our next stand. The rainy 
season had set in and already there was a 
report out that the Santa Fe trains would 
soon be stalled. This made me a little 
apprehensive as Mrs. Kiplinger, manager 
of the San Bernardino Opera House, had 
refused to play me on a percentage basis 
and I had contracted to pay her one hun- 
dred and seventy-five dollars rent for her 
theatre for one week, newspapers, bill post- 
ing, etc., extra. To lose one or two nights 
would be a heart breaker, and when we 
reached Needles we found conditions very 
bad; no billing at all, the town small and 
no life, although there was plenty for me 
before I got out. I conceived the idea of 



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September 



JPV Mfv-no*. HlTMU 

director 



cancelling, if possible, and thereby making 
sure of reaching San Bernardino in good 
time and starting some publicity that I 
felt sure we would need. I proceeded at 
once to find Dr. Booth, the manager. 
Someone directed me to the Needle's Eye, 
a newspaper owned and edited by Dr. 
Booth, who, besides being opera house 
manager and newspaper editor, was the 
leading physician and leading attorney of 
the town. 

I met my wife and two of the girls of 
the company talking to a distinguished 
looking man of, I judged, about thirty- 
five years of age and weighing around a 
hundred and eighty pounds. My wife in- 
troduced him to me as Dr. Booth. I im- 
mediately asked him what he thought of 
our prospects for the night. He replied, 
“Not very bright.” 

I then inquired if he advised me to stay 
and show, or cancel and go on to San 
Bernardino, to which he replied, “You’ll 
do nothing here, so I would like to see 
you go on.” I thanked him and hurried 
to the train and stopped the unloading of 
our baggage. This accomplished, I 
rounded up the company, informed them 
we were going on and saw them all on 
the train. 

I was about to get on myself when Dr. 
Booth stepped up and asked how much I 
would be willing to stay and show for. 
I replied, “Forty dollars my share.” He 
said, “You wouldn’t get it.” 

I agreed with him and again started to 
board the train when he again stopped me 
with, “Very bad judgment has been dis- 
played in this matter.” Again I agreed 
with him but he seemed to be peeved and 
detained me with, “By , I mean you!” 

Once more I declared him to be right. 
“Furthermore,” he remarked, “I don’t 
think you have acted like a gentleman.” 

I naturally inquired in what way. 

“Well, I heard you were going to slip 
by us and not stop at all.” 

I replied, “Oh, I’m not accountable for 
rumors and the best answer to that is, I’m 
here and would have played even at a loss 
if you hadn’t given me permission to can- 
cel.” 

Now he became nasty: “You haven’t 
acted like a gentleman anyhow.” 

I came right back: “I don’t see any 
medals dangling from your chest proclaim- 
ing you to be such a gentleman either.” 

“Do you mean to insinuate that I’m not 
a gentleman?” 

“No, but — ” And that’s as far as I 
got for the doctor swung one from the 
hip. 

It was so unexpected that it look me 
full in the face a little to the left of my 
big nose, luckily, and started his left to 
follow, but I was fortunate enough to stop 
him with my own left, a quick, straight 
jab; then stepped in and caught him with 
a stiff right in the mouth. He went under 
the train, staggered to his feet. His lower 
lip was split, vertically, so badly that his 



teeth were showing and blood running all 
over his broad white shirt front. 

As he reached his feet, I swung my left 
hard for his chin, but the hotel man, who 
was a witness to the whole proceeding, 
pushed me back by the shoulder just far 
enough for me to miss. 

I was at once surrounded by a mob that 
evidently had not seen the first blows 
struck, had seen only the doctor pick him- 
self up from the ground with a cut lip 
and bleeding. They backed me up against 
the train and called me everything they 
could think of, the leadership being as- 
sumed by a man named Corning, who op- 
erated a smelter in Needles and lived in 
Los Angeles. He was closely seconded by 
a “rat” in overalls. 

Corning drove me against the side of 
the train with a swing on my left jaw and 
I was about to get mine a-plenty, with the 

mob yelling, “String the up!” when 

Hamilton Armour, an English actor, since 
dead of lung trouble, the only one of all 
the huskies I had working for me who had 
the nerve to try to help me, jumped off 
the train, and to my side with “Hold on, 
men ; you’re not acting like Americans. 
I’ve always understood that Americans be- 
lieved in fair play. If you must have a 
fight, just step back a little, form a ring 
and pick out your best man; I’m sure he’ll 
take on any one of you.” 

I was desperate and figured a fair lick- 
ing would be a cheap way out of it, espe- 
cially as I had heard the cries of, “Get a 
rope, let’s lynch the !” So I volun- 

teered to go any two and asked for Corn- 
ing and the “rat.” The latter had been 
prancing around waving his fists looking 
for a chance to take a punch at me with- 
out any danger of a return. Armour suc- 
ceeded in holding them off for a little but 
they wouldn’t agree to a fight but wanted 
my destruction. 

At this moment the white-haired con- 
ductor of our train broke through the 
crowd and grabbed me by the arm, with : 
“Here, you get on that train!” I was 
hustled into the car and sat down by my 
wife and prayed for the train to start. 
Just then I heard a rasping old voice cry, 
“You go in there, arrest him and bring 

him out, or I’ll go in and kill the !” 

I wasn’t through yet. 

A tall, dark man with a drooping black 
moustache came into the car followed by 
a smaller man. They came down the 
aisle looking over the passengers, trying to 
locate the man who hit Booth. I did the 
best acting of my life, looking around with 
innocent curiosity, as if to see what was 
going on. 

I would have gotten away with it, too, 
as they walked right by me, if the old stiff 
who had threatened to kill me hadn’t en- 
tered the car just then and point me out 

with, “There’s the ; arrest him!” 

The officers turned, picked me out of the 
seat and hustled me from the train just as 
it started to pull out for San Bernardino. 



I was whipped, alone in a rotten town 
with a mob at my heels that still threat- 
ened violence. Dr. Booth was right ahead. 
I called to him to let me off so that I 
might catch my train which was gathering 
way very slowly on account of its great 
length, but he answered only with a curse 
and made a vicious swing at me that I was 
lucky enough to catch with the palm of my 
right hand. The officers had hold of me on 
either side and the doctor was going to try 
again, when the finest looking young man I 
have ever seen stepped in between us and 
started Booth off with “Go home, Doc!” 
and to the officers, “This man is under ar- 
rest and entitled to your protection.” To 
which they replied, “Well, he’s getting it.” 

“But in a poor way,” said the man, 

whom I afterwards learned was named 
Prince, a graduate of Yale and an athlete. 
He sure was rightly named. 

Well, they put me in their jail, after 
relieving me of my bank roll, and some 
jail — one room made out of boiler iron, 
rather large as I remember it with no win- 
dows, but rivet holes everywhere. The 
marshal brought me a bucket of ice water 
— it was at least a hundred and twenty in 
there — and then I was left alone. I never 
felt so rotten in all my life. 

I had been in a couple of hours, when 
I heard steps approaching. I thought it 
was the marshal, but the steps suddenly 
stopped. My nerves were on edge anyway 
and I imagined some one was slipping up 
to take a shot at me. I looked around for 
some place to hide but the rivet holes 
seemed to command every section of the 
cell, so I sat on an oil can near the side 
wall and waited. 

Presently a voice within a few inches 
of my ear said, “Hello.” I replied “Hello” 
and my visitor remarked, “You’re in a 
pretty bad mess” — to which I agreed. 

“Do you belong to any secret order, 
Elks or Masons?" he asked. At that time 
I did not and so told him. 

“That’s too bad,” he said. “You had 
better ask for a change of venue as you 
would never get a fair trial in this town. 
Only today Dr. Booth received two hun- 
dred and twenty dollars for defending and 
obtaining an acquittal for a prostitute who 
was on trial for selling liquor without a 
license and yet I know there was hardly a 
man on that jury who had not had a drink 
in her house. 

“He was showing his friends a good 
time on that money today and after he 
gave you permission to cancel, his crowd 
persuaded him to make you stay and show 
as they wanted to see Sapho. When he 
failed to get you to stay, he evidently 
thought he could knock you down and that 
you would crawl on the train without a 
fight and he would receive the plaudits of 
his friends. 

“You can thank your good fortune that 
no one pulled a gun as that would have 
started things a-plenty. You would un- 
doubtedly have been shot and the Murphy- 



1925 



I X MOTION nmw 

director 



47 




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Monahan crowd would have stepped in, as 
they have been waiting all day for Booth 
and his friends to give them an opening. 

“Now I’ll go up town and see what I 
can do for you, but I want you to prom- 
ise that if you recognize my voice when 
you get out, don’t let on you know me, as 
I am so situated here that I can’t afford to 
take your part openly.” 

He left me and an hour later the mar- 
shal opened the door and took me out. He 
did not set me free, but escorted me to a 
Chinese restaurant in a small side street 
and I had something to eat — which I paid 
for. From there we went to the hotel, by 
the back way. I was locked in a room 
with the marshal and a deputy outside the 
door, seated with big Colt revolvers in 
their laps. They were probably having a 
lot of fun with the “actor” but from the 
talk I had overheard in the restaurant, I 
figured the marshals feared the Booth 
crowd might come after me during the 
night and of course I was not tickled to 
death with the idea. I looked out of the 
window and calculated my chances of 
making a getaway by means of that exit 
in case things got warm. 

Sunday morning came, however, with- 
out event and later in the day I was in- 
formed that Dr. Booth was willing to let 
me go providing I paid the advertising bill 
of one dollar and fifty cents. That was 
easy, so about four o’clock I was given 
my bank roll, I paid the one-fifty and one 
dollar to the hotel and was then conducted 
out of town by the back way, put on board 
the caboose of a long freight train and 
ordered to get into a berth and cover up 
with blankets. After what seemed to me 
an awful long wait, the train finally 
started but I didn’t come from under until 
we were at least twenty miles out of town. 

I reached San Bernardino about four- 
thirty Monday afternoon, had time to 
shave, take a bath and get something to eat 
before going to the show house. The rest 
of my people had reached town Sunday 
morning, and theirs was the last passenger 
train to get through for several days, and 
if we had played Needles the entire com- 
pany would have had to travel by freight 
and arrived in San Bernardino late Mon- 
day afternoon the same as I did. As it 
was the boys had had time to get out and 
do some advertising, painting sidewalks, 
soaping signs on saloon mirrors and hang- 
ing long banners in prominent places. 

What a difference that night ! The house 
was crowded and the audience enthusias- 
tic. They even demanded a curtain speech 
of me and laughed heartily at a brief re- 
cital of my troubles in Needles. The news- 
papers had two-column articles in story 
form of my run-in with Booth. They 
knew him well, as he had been sheriff of 
San Bernardino county for years. 

Our opening went around two hundred 
dollars, prices now the old ten, twenty and 
thirty scale, and stayed good all the week, 
totaling over twelve hundred for the six 



nights and one matinee. Mrs. Kiplinger 
was not in the best of humor as she figured 
out where she lost over three hundred dol- 
lars by not playing me on the regular 60- 
40 basis for shows of my kind. 

We were due in Riverside the following 
week but President McKinley died just 
then and Frank Miller, the manager, can- 
celed and draped his theatre in mourning. 
We put the week in in Ontario and Colton 
to indifferent business. 

We were to show in Redlands after Col- 
ton and as the soldier advance man was 
quitting, I pressed one of the actors into 
service sending him to Santa Ana Sunday 
morning to do the billing for a three-night 
stand to follow Redlands while I would 
bill Pomona, where we were due after 
Santa Ana. We both had to be in Red- 
lands for the show Monday night. I fin- 
ished in Pomona without trouble but the 
actor advance man got drunk, failed to 
reach Redlands in time to show and some- 
one had to read his part. I thought this 
would kill the week, but it didn’t; in fact, 
we did more business than the following 
year with a better show and better plays. 

Santa Ana and Pomona also showed a 
little profit. Then we played John C. 
Fisher’s theatre in San Diego for a week, 
opening in The Butterflies, John Drew’s 
successful comedy, to a good house and 
pleasing the people. One of the papers 
headed their review of the show next morn- 
ing with — The Butterflies as Played 
by John Drew — Only Different — and 
attempted to be humorous, but we did 
over twelve hundred on the week and 
pleased particularly well in Sapho. Frank 
Bacon had been there with his show play- 
ing Sapho and charging more money, but 
according to the papers, we gave the best 
performance. I was paying salaries now 
and things looked good. 

(To be Continued ) 



WHY HOLLYWOOD? 

(Continued from Page 17) 

can be transplanted to the Pacific Coast. 

It is being done constantly. Recently, 
for instance, on the United lot was cre- 
ated an exact counterpart of Gramercy 
Square, not as it is today, but as it was 
in the period in which the story was laid. 

True enough, there are mammoth stu- 
dios in and around New York, humming 
with production activity, equipped with all 
the latest and most modern devices. It is 
a fact that we no longer need to depend 



Take my advice: 

Subscribe for 

THE DIRECTOR 

William Bill 



1925 



49 



f -V Mono* n« TVM 

director 



on Old Sol for light — the greatest reason 
why we first migrated to California — and 
use electricity to achieve effects which can 
be and are used in any studio, no matter 
what its location, working conditions or 
climate; so that, insofar as interiors are 
concerned, pictures can be produced in New 
York or elsewhere with the same ease as 
in Hollywood, but — 

Where, outside of Hollywood, is the 
“locational atmosphere” so readily avail- 
able here? Where are the mountains with- 
in a few hours’ ride — real mountains with 
serrated peaks and snow lines, with big 
timber and rushing streams; mountains of 
volcanic formation with their deep ravines 
and boulder-strewn canyons? Where is 
the sea — the mighty rolling Pacific with 
its long stretches of beach, its dunes and 
rocky shores — its Lagunas and Montereys? 
And where is the desert — the real Ameri- 
can desert with its sagebrush and its mes- 
quite — where are the plains; where are 
the complete range of climatic possibilities 
from the snows of the arctics to the jungles 
of the tropics? 

Why, in a few hours from Hollywood 
and at little cost we may reach “atmos- 
phere” which, in other centers where pic- 
tures are made, would require huge expen- 
ditures and the loss of from five days to 
two months in time. 

In Hollywood the producer has at his 
instant disposal the four quarters of the 
earth: Alaska, the East, the West, Flor- 

ida — even with her Everglades — China, 
Japan, Africa, India, the South Seas! 

Can New York, Florida or Europe of- 
fer these? 

My experience has taught me that they 
cannot. 

D URING the time that I was in 
Florida I found it extremely diffi- 
cult to make anything but pictures 
which dealt with Florida atmosphere. I 
cannot see where Florida can compare in 
any measure with Hollywood for conveni- 
ence in picture making, no matter what 
the locale of the story, nor in the matter 
of equipage and facilities. 

Similarly in Europe, I found that I 
could have secured in Hollywood at much 
less trouble, and saving in time and pro- 
duction costs, what I achieved there at a 
tremendous outlay of cash. 

For, in addition to its “locational atmos- 
phere,” Hollywood has developed the nec- 
essary accessories to motion picture produc- 
tion. There are in Hollywood more than 
forty thousand people engaged in motion 
picture activity, people who have been es- 
pecially trained in their own particular 
fields and who have become specialists in 
their lines ; men and women whose lives 
have been devoted to the creation of enter- 
tainment features. 

Here is an army of actors, actresses, di- 
rectors, technical aids, carpenters, plaster- 
ers, painters, artists, architects, film chem- 
ists, cutters, editors and who and what not, 



all scientifically trained. At a moment’s 
notice it is possible to procure character 
types representing practically every race on 
this planet, singly or in groups of mob 
proportions. 

Say what we like about the extras, they 
constitute a very important adjunct to mo- 
tion picture production. Here they are 
available in seemingly unlimited numbers 
and all of them have had that basis of 
screen experience which insures proper 
make-up and performance before the cam- 
era. Insignificant as this item may seem 
to be, it is one of the contributor factors 
which adds immeasurably to the weight of 
Hollywood’s claim to genuine superiority 
over all other centers. 

E VERY now and then there comes a 
fresh outburst of talk concerning the 
migration of motion picture compa- 
nies away from Hollywood — to Eastern 
cities or to foreign shores — and I suppose 
that such outbursts will continue for many 
months to come. But such talk can be, 
in my opinion, but wasted “gas” and idle 
conversation. 

There is too much money invested in 
Hollywood to permit of any wholesale 
migration. 

Millions upon millions are invested in 
studio property, in real estate and in 
equipment. Through the years there have 
been accumulated in Hollywood, in the 
prop rooms and on studio lots, equipment, 
props, accessories and paraphernalia of ev- 
ery nature, most of which have in them- 
selves a value out of all proportion to their 
intrinsic worth. 

And millions of dollars are invested by 
the players, and people engaged in the busi- 
ness of making pictures, in homes and per- 
sonal property, too much by far ever to 
think that they would move bag and bag- 
gage to some other location. And inciden- 
tally these people are vitally necessary to 
the successful production of motion pic- 
tures. 

So, it is my sincere belief that Holly- 
wood will never lose the movies, and that 
it is the most suitable place for me to ply 
my profession — the making of motion pic- 
tures for entertainment purposes. 

There is no other place like it. 

Editor’s Note: Mr. Carewe’s article is the 

first of a series of articles on the general sub- 
ject, “Why Hollywood?” In succeeding issues 
the views of other directors and producers will 
be presented, not as a prejudiced refutation of 
foreign propaganda, but as a frank discussion 
of an interesting and important subject. 



Washburn and Crosby have proclaimed 
for years, “Eventually, why not now?” 
Well, why not? THE DIRECTOR will 
appear just as interesting and a whole lot 
more regularly if you have us mail it to you 
each month. 



Advertising is the merchant’s way of 
placing before you interesting facts concern- 
ing the products he has bought for your use. 
Read the advertisements in THE DIREC- 
TOR for their messages to you. 



You Fellows 
Got My 
Invitations 
Didn’t You? 

—HENRY BERGMAN 

¥ 

HENRY’S 

Rotisserie & Delicatessen 
Caterers 

ROAST CHICKENS, SQUABS 
AND TURKEYS 

6325 Hollywood Blvd. 
GLadstone 9803 



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A k e l e y Camera — 
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50 



f. MOTTO"* ru UM 

director 



September 




Still Going Strong 







OUR years ago we had but one Drug Store, 
and today we are Hollywood’s largest retail 
druggists with five up-to-the-minute stores. 



That Progress is based upon our patrons’ 
confidence. 

Each shareholder of KRESS DRUG Co. stock 
has gained, and in order that the KRESS DRUG 
Co. may ably take care of it’s increased busi- 
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the word is a “ Safe and Sound Investment ” 



HOLLYWOOD FINANCE CO. 

fiscal agents 



SECURITY BANK BUILDING 
GR. 1156 



192 5 



51 



director 



THE NIGHT BRIDE 

(Continued from Page 29) 



of her years of service in the banker’s 
employ, handed him the morning paper 
with a sort of thrust; as if she held a 
lance in her hand and was jabbing at the 
editor who dared bandy the name of Walsh 
so lightly. 

He snatched the paper from her and 
read the article through to the last word. 
His face purpled. With a smothered curse, 
he kicked over his chair, slammed the paper 
to the floor and strode from the room, a 
string of maledictions spewing from his 
lips. 

When Walsh’s violent temper was 
aroused, his reasoning powers failed to 
function. He had an appointment with 
Cynthia in thirty minutes. They were 
going to motor over to the city and attend 
the races. 

He would kill two birds with one stone. 

His greeting of Cynthia was cordial, but 
there was a grim undertone to his manner 
that drew a sharp look from her. 

“I want to stop at the Warrington place 
a moment, if you don’t mind,” he said 
jerkily, as he slammed the door of the car 
shut and slumped down beside her. Their 
conversation was desultory, for Walsh was 
in a murderous mood. 

Cynthia observed the spires of the castle 
loom up before her with mixed feelings. 
Somehow, she felt thrilled with pleasure 
in the hopes of seeing the young Ogre 
again. Angrily, she tried to act indiffer- 
ent. She knew she wanted to see him — 
and yet she didn’t. She was glad — and 
she was mad — good and mad, at herself. 

The car glided up the driveway and came 
to a stop at Walsh’s signal. It was Cyn- 
thia’s first glimpse of the castle grounds 
from the inside. 

The marvel of its beauty held her spell- 
bound. 

Hector let out a series of yelps and 
tugged frantically at his chain. He recog- 
nized his arch enemy, the man who tried 
to shoot him. 

Biggies hurried out of the garage and 
saw the intruders. What? That girl 
here again? He’d see about this. 

Over on the tennis courts, a set of triple 
horizontal bars had been erected. A heavy 
padding lay stretched out beneath them. 
Stanley, attired in athletic shirt and white 
duck trousers, was engaged at that moment 
in balancing himself on one of the bars 
head downward. Swinging in a graceful 
curve, he flung his body through the air, 
caught the next bar, circled again, catch- 
ing the third bar; then, circling once more, 
he let go, twisted into a somersault and 
landed lightly on his feet. Cynthia and 
Walsh stared at this stunt in amazement. 

Biggies came hobbling over to inform his 
master they had guests. Seeing who it 
was, Stanley nodded, and started towards 
the car, a frown of displeasure on his face. 

The seething banker got out and planted 



his feet firmly on the ground. It was 
more to his dignity that Warrington come 
to him. Had his common sense been 
working — even on half time, he would 
have carried this quarrel far away from 
Cynthia’s sight and hearing. But his wits 
had flown in fear of the consuming fires 
of his rage. 

Cynthia watched the young Ogre ap- 
proaching. She could not help but notice 
the rippling muscles of the athlete, the 
smooth tanned skin and graceful swing of 
his carriage. 

Young Warrington gave Cynthia her 
usual, casual nod, looked the banker over 
cooly, and waited for the first gun to be 
fired. 

“I want to know,” boomed Walsh as 
he shook his finger close to Stanley’s nose, 
“By what right you indict me in your 
filthy sheet on subjects you know nothing 
about.” 

Stanley’s nose swayed sideways in syn- 
chronous precision with the fat, pudgy fin- 
ger of the banker. It caught his fancy to 
anticipate each stop of the accusing digit. 
A momentary gurgle from the girl in the 
car, brought Walsh to imagine that perhaps 
this looked funny. He lowered his hand. 

“The article explains itself,” said War- 
rington, his cool, gray eyes darting sparks 
of joy, in the prospects of another joust 
with this trucculant antagonist. 

It was the first time Cynthia had seen 
him without his goggles. 

“This isn’t the first time you have held 
me up to ridicule,” the irate man was 
saying. His chest was heaving like a bel- 
lows, and his words came in belabored 
puffs. “At first I attributed it to the 
brain of a weakling, but there’s a limit to 
everything — and I warn you, it’s got to 
stop. In this last article you practically 
call me a thief.” 

“If the shoe fits, wear it,” Stanley sug- 
gested, without the slightest sign of ran- 
cor. “I think you’re as crooked as a 
ram’s horn, and I think I have evidence 
to prove it. As my paper will continue 
to analyze your public deals in print, I’m 
curious to know how you’re going to stop 
it.” 

If the fuming financier’s body had ex- 
ploded into bits, Cynthia would not have 
been surprised. 

Stanley’s calm and half-cynical treat- 
ment of the whole affair was in marked 
contrast to the violent display of Walsh’s 
temper. It recalled to Cynthia that old 
adage, “He who holdeth his temper, win- 
neth the fight.” “Somehow,” she thought, 
“When these two lock horns, Addison 
always loses caste.” It annoyed her exceed- 
ingly. 

The thunder of her fiance’s voice broke 
her reverie. 

“I’ll tell you how I’m going to stop it,” 
he shouted, a froth of apoplexy sliming 



his lips. “I’m going to horsewhip you if 
it happens again, until your hide will look 
like a zebra’s — and don’t think I can’t 
do it.” 

The culprit’s eyebrows arched in mock 
surprise. He deliberately bowed, as if 
bending to the yoke of his adversary’s ulti- 
matum. 

“Morituri, te salutatus,” he quoted in all 
humility. 

“We, who are about to die, salute thee.” 
To Walsh it sounded like a camouflaged 
string of epithets. 

For a moment, Cynthia feared her 
friend was going to end the interview in 
a brawl, but a grimness in Stanley’s glare 
restrained him. Growling something 
about, “we’ll see,” he climbed into the car. 

Stanley”s eyes met those of Cynthia’s. 
In them, she read an unspoken message, 
easily translated. 

“Congratulations,” they seemed to say, 
“on your choice of a husband.” 

Cynthia’s cheeks flamed. Was it in 
anger — or humiliation ? 

When the car had regained the highway, 
an ominous silence pervaded, as the grim 
truth came to her. She was affianced to a 
fat, flabby, irritable man, with brutal ten- 
dencies and a vile temper. 

On the seat beside her Walsh simmered, 
like a tea kettle, after the fire has been 
turned down. But it had not as yet oc- 
curred to him, that he had slipped on the 
top rung of his ladder of romance, and 
hit the ground with a dull and sickening 
thud. (To Be Continued) 



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Hollywood 

COSTUMING CO. 

6004 Hollywood Blvd. 

GLADSTONE 0362 

“Costumes by Israel” 



52 



1~N t MOTTO* run’s! 

director 



September 



New Pictures in the Making 



DIRECTOR 


STUDIO 


PRODUCTION 


STAR 


SCENARIST 


STATUS 


fohn G. Adolfi 


California 


Pals 


Wm. Russell 


Jules Furthman 


Cutting 


Del Andrews 


F.B.O. 


Riding the Wind 


Fred Thomson 


Marion Jackson 


Cutting 


King Baggott 


United 


Tumbleweed 


Bill Hart 




Shooting 


Reginald Barker 


Fox 


When the Door Opened 


All-star 


Bradley King 


Shooting 


Harold Beaudine 


Christie 


Comedy 


Bobby Vernon 


Hal Conklin 


Shooting 


William Beaudine 


Pickford Fairbanks 


Scraps 


Mary Pickford 


Winifred Dunn 


Preparing 


Paul Bern 


Paramount 


Flower of Night 


Pola Negri 


Willis Goldbeck 


Cutting 


J. Stuart Blackton 


Warner Bros. 


Gilded Highway 


All-star 


Marian Constance 


Cutting 


Herbert Blache 


Universal 


Chip of the Flying-U 


Hoot Gibson 


Schayer-Lee 


Finishing 


King Baxter 


Fine Arts 


Laughing Whirlwind 


Roy Hughes 


L. V. Jefferson 


Preparing 


Lloyd Bacon 


Sennett 


Untitled 


Ralph Graves 


Staff 


Shooting 


Charles Brabin 


Universal 


Sweet Rosie O’Grady 


Mary Philbin 


Brabin-Scully 


Preparing 


Clarence Brown 


United 


Lone Eagle 


Rudolph Valentino 


Hans Kraely 


Shooting 


H. J. Brown 


California 


Windjammer 


Billy Sullivan 


Henry Symonds 


Preparing 


Tom Buckingham 


Waldorf 


Ladies of Leisure 


Elaine Hammerstein 


Tom Hopkins 


Preparing 


Edwin Carewe 


United 


Joanna with a Million 


Dorothy Mackaill 




Preparing 


Horace B. Carpenter 


Berwilia 


Burnin’ ’Em Up 


Bill Patton-Dorothy 








Donald 




Shooting 


William Craft 


Independent 


Lightning Strikes 


Lightnin’ 


Wyndham Gittings 


Finishing 


Eddie F. Cline 


M.G.M. 


Old Clothes 


Jackie Coogan 




Shooting 


Wm. C. Crinley 


Universal 


Radio Detective 


William Desmond 


Staff 


Shooting 


Allan Crosland 


Warner Bros. 


Compromise 


Irene Rich 


E. J. Lowe, J r. 


Cutting 


James Cruze 


Paramount 


The Pony Express 


Compson-Cortez 


Forman- Woods 


Shooting 


Irving Cummings 


United 


Caesar’s Wife 


Corinne Griffith 


A. F. Levine 


Preparing 


Wm. H. Curren 


California 


Merchant of Weenice 


Delaney-Phillips 


H. G. Witwer 


Cutting 


Cecil B. DeMille 


DeMille 


Road to Yesterday 


All-star 


Macpherson-Dix 


Shooting 


William DeMille 


Paramount 


New Brooms 


Feature Cast 


Clara Beranger 


Shooting 


Roy Del Ruth 


Warner Bros. 


Broken Hearts 


All-star 


Darral F. Zannuck 


Preparing 


Wm. De Vonde 


Thos. C. Regan 


The Backwash 


All-star 


Bill Bailee 


Shooting 


J. Francis Dillon 


United 


We Moderns 


Colleen Moore 


June Mathis 


Shooting 


Robert Dillon 


California 


The Flame Fighter 


Rawlinson 


Dillon 


Shooting 


Denver Dixon 


Berwilia 


Untitled 


Bob Roberts 


Staff 


Preparing 


Harry Edwards 


Sennett 


Comedy 


Harry Langdon 


Staff 


Shooting 


Victor Fleming 


Paramount 


Lord Jim 


Percy Marmont 


Geo. C. Hull 


Cutting 


Tom Forman 


Hollywood 


The People vs. Nancy 


All-star 


Marion Orth 


Cutting 




Preston 




John Considine, Jr. 




Sidney A. Franklin 


United 


Paris After Dark 


Norma Talmadge 


Preparing 


Emmett Flynn 


Fox 


The Conquistador 


Tom Mix 




Cutting 


Francis Ford 


Universal 


Winking Idol 


Wm. Desmond 




Cutting 


John Ford 


Fox 


Three Bad Men 


All-star 


Tom Hopkins 


On Location 


Sven Gade 


Universal 


Wives for Rent 


All-star 


Shooting 


Tony Gaudio 


Waldorf 


Sealed Lips 


Dorothy Reviere 


Rob Wagner 


Shooting 


Harry Garson 


F.B.O. 


Heads Up 


Lefty Flynn 


John Goodrich 


Shooting 


Louis Gasnier 


F.B.O. 


The Other Woman’s 
Story 


All-star 


Staff 


Shooting 


Arvid Gilstrom 


Educational 


Untitled 




Staff 


Shooting 


John Gorman 


Independent 


A Prince of Broadway 


George Walsh 


Cutting 


Alf Goulding 


Sennett 


Untitled 


Alice Day 


Eve Unsell 


Shooting 


Arthur Gregor 


Independent 


Count of Luxemburg 


All-star 


Staff 


Preparing 


Alfred E. Green 


United 


Spanish Sunlight 


Stone-LaMarr 


Staff 


Preparing 


Wm. Goodrich 


Educational 


Comedy 


Lloyd Hamilton 


Whittaker-Doty 


Shooting 


Fred Guiol 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Glenn T ryon 


Staff 


Shooting 


Alan Hale 


DeMille 


The Wedding Song 


Leatrice Joy 


Edmund Goulding 


Cutting 


James W. Horne 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Lucien Littlefield 


Preparing 


W. K. Howard 


Paramount 


Martinique 


Bebe Daniels 


J. G. Alexander 


Shooting 


John E. Ince 


California 


The Great Adventure 


Rawlinson-Darmond 




Cutting 


Ralph Ince 


Marshall Neilan 


The Sea Wolf 


Viola Dana 


Hal Roach 


Cutting 


Fred Jackman 


Hal Roach 


Thunderfoot 


Rex 


Emilie Johnson 


Shooting 


Emory Johnson 


F.B.O. 


The Last Edition 


Ralph Lewis 




Shooting 


Daniel Keefe 


Fox 


The Hypotheis of 


All-star 




Shooting 






Failure 




Will Lambert 


Erie Kenton 


Warner Bros. 


The White Chief 


All-star 




Preparing 


George Jeske 


California 


Account of Monte Cristo 


Delaney-Phillips 


H. C. Witwer 


Cutting 


Burton King 


Selig 


Counsel for the Defense 


All-star 




Shooting 


Henry King 


United 


Potash and Perlmutter 


Carr-Sidney 




Shooting 



1925 director 53 



DIRECTOR 


STUDIO 


PRODUCTION 


STAR 


SCENARIST 


STATUS 


Charles Lamont 


Educational 


Untitled 


Chris Bowes 




Shooting 


Rowland V. Lee 


Fox 


Silver Treasure 


All-star 


R. V. Lee 


Cutting 


Robert Z. Leonard 


M.G.M. 


A Little Bit of Broad- 
way 


All-star 


Jesse Burns 


Preparing 


Stan Laurel 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Clyde Cook 


Staff 


Cutting 


Frank Lloyd 


United 


The Splendid Road 


All-star 


J. G. Hawks 


Shooting 


Ernest Lubitsch 


Warner Bros. 


Lady Windermere’s Fan 


Irene Rich 




Shooting 


Wilfred Lucas 


F.B.O. 


El Pasado 


All-star 


Sullivan-Lucas 


Cutting 


Edward Luddy 


California 


Last of the Mohicans 


All-star 


H. C. Witwer 


Cutting 


J. P. McGowan 


California 


Silver Fingers 


George Larkin 


McGowan 


Shooting 


Robert McGowan 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Our Gang 


Staff 


Shooting 


Leo McCarey 


Hal Roach 


Untitled 


Charles Chase 


Staff 


Shooting 


Henry McRae 


Universal 


Strings of Steel 


All-star 


Morgan-Goodin 


Preparing 


Leo Maloney 


Goodwill 


Win, Lose or Draw 


Leo Maloney 


Ford Beebe 


Shooting 


George Melford 


Hollywood 


Simon the Jester 


All-star 


Francis Marion 


Shooting 


Lewis Milestone 


Warner Bros. 


Untitled 


Matt Moore 




Preparing 


Bruce Mitchell 


California 


Speed Madness 


Frank Merrill 


Wm. Wing 


Shooting 


Warren Milais 


Fine Arts 


Up in the Air 


All-star 


Eline Wilmont 


Shooting 


Edmund Mortimer 


Hollywood 


The Man from Red 
Gulch 


Harry Carey 


Harvey Gates 


Shooting 


Vin Moore 


Universal 


Ike’s Holiday 


Holmes-Corbett 


Moore-McKenzie 


Shooting 


Zion Myers 


Universal 


Sweet Sixteen 


Arthur Lake 


Chas. Diltz 


Preparing 


Lax Neal 


United 


Go West 


Buster Keaton 




Shooting 


Marshall Neilan 


M.G.M. 


The Great Love 


All-star 


Benjamin Glazer 


Shooting 


Jack Nelson 


F.B.O. 


Prince of Pep 


Richard Talmadge 


Jas. Bell Smith 


Preparing 


Fred Niblo 


M.G.M. 


Ben Hur 


All-star 




Finishing 


Fred Newmeyer 
Henry W. Otto 


F.B.O. 

Fox 


Seven Keys to Baldpate 
Rhyme of the Ancient 
Mariner 


Douglas Maclean 
Paul Panzer 


Staff 


Shooting 


A1 Parker 


Pickford-Fairbanks 


The Black Pirate 


Doug Fairbanks 


Staff 


Preparing 


Stuart Paton 


Hollywood 


Through Veiled Eyes 


All-star 


Payton- Alexander 


Preparing 


Harry Pollard 


Universal 


Two Blocks Away 


All-star 




Preparing 


Paul Powell 


F.B.O. 


North Star 


Strongheart 


Chas. Horan 


Shooting 


Albert Ray 


Fox 


Helen and Warren 


Perry-Cooley 


Kathryn Carr 


Shooting 


T. J. Ray 


California 


The Young American 


All-star 


Staff 


Preparing 


Curt Rehfield 


United 


Viennese Medley 


All-star 


June Mathis 


Shooting 


Steve Roberts 


Educational 


Untitled 


Al St. John 


Staff 


Shooting 


Jess Robbins 


Educational 


Comedy 


Lupino Lane 


Staff 


Shooting 


Wesley Ruggles 


F.B.O. 


The Plastic Age 


Clara Bow 


Unsell-Sagor 


Finishing 


AI Rogell 


Universal 


Deadwood Dick 


Jack Hoxie 


Harvey Thaw 


Shooting 


Nat Ross 
Al Santell 


F.B.O. 


Transcontinental 

Limited 


Not Selected 


Casting 


Edward Sedgwick 


Universal 


On the Frontier 


Hoot Gibson 


Chas. Kenyon 


On Location 


Chas. R. Seeling 


California 


Untitled 


All-star 


Seeling 


Preparing 


George B. Seitz 


Paramount 


Vanishing Americans 
What Happened to 


All-star 

Reginald Denny 


Ethel Dougherty 


Cutting 


William A. Seiter 


Universal 


Jones 


Marion Nixon 


Geo. Broadhurst 


Shooting 


Forrest Sheldon 


Goodwill 


Untitled 


Bruce Gordon 


Sheldon 


Shooting 


H. Scott Sidney 


Christie 


Madame Lucy 


Julian Eltinge 


F. McGrew Willis 


Finishing 


Edward Sloman 


Universal 


His People 




•■a 11/11"! 


Finishing 


Noel Smith 


Warner Bros. 


Clash of the Wolves 


Rin-TJn-Tin 


Charles Logue 


Finishing 


Paul Sloan 


DeMille 


Braveheart 


Rod La Rocque 




Preparing 


John M. Stahl 


M.G.M. 


Memory Lane 


All-star 


Benjamin Glazer 


Shooting 


Edward Sutherland 


Paramount 


On Dress Parade 


Raymond Griffith 


Keene Thompson 


Shooting 


Jerome Storm 


Charles Ray 


Sweet Adeline 


Charles Ray 


Chas. E. Banks 


Cutting 


Jack Strayer 


Waldorf 


The Lure of the Wild 


Jane Novak 




Finishing 


Hunt Stromberg 


Hollywood 


The Last Frontier 


All-star 


Harvey Gates 


Preparing 


Wm. Stroubach 


California 


Untitled 


Johnny St. Clair 


Staff 


Shooting 


Slim Summerville 


Universal 


Comedy 


Neely Edwards 


Chas. Diltz 


Shooting 


Sam Taylor 


Hollywood 


Untitled 


Harold Lloyd 


Staff 


Shooting 


Norman Taurog 


Educational 


Untitled 


Lige Conley 


Eddie Moran 


Shooting 


King Vidor 


M.G.M. 


La Boheme 


Lillian Gish 


Edmund Goulding 


Preparing 


Josef von Sternberg 


M.G.M. 


The Masked Bride 


Mae Murray 


Carey Wilson 


Shooting 


Eric von Stroheim 


United 


East of the Setting Sun 


Constance Talmadge 


Von Stroheim 


Preparing 


Raoul Walsh 


Paramount 


The Lucky Lady 


Feature Cast 


James O’Donohoe 


Cutting 


William Watson 


Christie 


Comedy 


Jimmie Adams 




Shooting 


Millard Webb 


Warner Bros. 


The Sea Beast 


John Barrymore 


Bess Meredith 


Shooting 


C. Richard Wallace 


Universal 


Comedy 


Neeley Edwards 


Marcel Perez 


Preparing 


Irvin Willat 


Paramount 


Ancient Highway 


Jack Holt 


James Hamilton 


Cutting 


K. E. Williamson 


Selig 


The Feud Woman 


Mary Carr 


L. V. Jefferson 


Shooting 


Ceder Wilkinson 
W. Wyler 


F.B.O. 

Universal 


Mazie Series 

The Fighting Barrier 


Vaughn-Kent 


Lewell Martin 


Shooting 

Preparing 


James Young 


Independent 


The Bells 


Lionel Barrymore 


Young 


Preparing 



54 



T~V MOTXW Wl H1U 

©irector 



September 



BOOK REVIEWS 



1 

I T ISN’T POSSIBLE 

* * * 

WITH OUR PRESENT EQUIP- 
MENT 

* * * 

TO DO ALL THE LAUNDRY 

* * * 

IN HOLLYWOOD 

* * * 

SO WE’RE SATISFIED 

* * * 

FOR THE PRESENT 

* * 

TO SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON THE SHARE WE GET 

* * * 

BUT WE WISH TO REMIND 
YOU 

* # * 

THAT IT’S ALWAYS POSSIBLE 



TO DO A LITTLE BIT MORE 

* * * 

AND IN THE COURSE 

* * * 

OF A NATURAL GROWTH 

* * * 

WE’LL SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON THE “LITTLE BIT MORE” 

* * * 

FOR AFTER ALL 

* * * 

WE’RE SPECIALISTS ANY- 
WAY— 

* * * 

THAT’S PROGRESS! 



COMMUNITY 

LAUNDRY 

1001 McCadden PI. HOlly 2538 



Glamour: Essays on the Art of the 
Theatre, by Stark Young. Scribners, 

$2.00 net. 

A VOLUME of keen imagination and 
banal stupidity, of sound criticism 
and silly slush, this collection ranks 
in literary value far below Mr. Young’s 
Three Fountains , which was one of the 
most refreshing and stimulating folios of 
essays published last year. However, one 
cannot expect too much of any book which 
begins by extending “thanks for permis- 
sion to reprint” to no less than six period- 
icals, ranging in diversity from the business- 
like New York Times to the precious 
Theatre Arts Monthly. 

The total value of Glamour is not the 
sum of its five parts, of which the first, 
“Visitors”, chronicles the reactions of the 
author to the New York performances of 
Eleanora Duse, Cecile Sorel, and the Mos- 
cow Art Theatre. Out of the twenty 
nine pages allotted to Madame Duse, 
some twenty-five are devoted to the frank- 
est heroine worship. Overwhelmed by 
his subject, the essayist celebrates her by 
prostration and prayer. The remaining 
few paragraphs attempt an interpretation 
of an art which seems to have been the 
outward manifestation of a truly Biblical 
grace. The body of this art is dissected by 
the critical scalpel of reason, and the 
surgical investigation fails, of course, to 
reveal its soul. 

Madame Sorel is set down as a clothes 
horse; and Mr. Young makes the startling 
discovery that the Anglo-Saxon does not 
relish French comedy. He also stumbles 
upon the fact that there are enforced upon 
the theatre certain artificial conventions, 
and shares his innocent surprise with the 
reader. 

He is at first disappointed by the Mos- 
cow Art Theatre, dissatisfied with the 
naturalism of The Czar Feodor, and lays 
down the law that historical fare must be 
served in the grand romantic manner. 
One surmises that he considered Shaw’s 
delightful Caesar and Cleopatra a particu- 
larly flat failure. Chekhov’s Cherry Or- 
chard, a play more to his taste, leaves him 
raphsodizing that the Russian visitors are 
“forever right and fine.” 

Under the heading of “The Prompt 
Book” a series of short essays point the 
actor’s path to perfection and teach him 
how to climb. The ideas in this section 
are too sound and valuable to be startling, 
and too eternal to master at a glance. 
While to many of us they will seem re- 
discoveries of familiar aesthetic shores, 
they differ from Mr. Young’s theatrical 
impressions in that they are discoveries and 
not inventions. Truth itself lends their 
air of veracity. Written in a nervously 
technical prose (which descends now and 
then to the level of the classroom lecture), 



they will be understood and appreciated by 
only the more literate of our Hollywood 
actors. To such I commend, with few 
reservations, “The Prompt Book.” 

In the third and lengthiest part of the 
volume, “Letters from Dead Actors”, each 
immortal writes from the grave to scold or 
reprimand some living performer whose 
parts are in his own tradition. Mr. 
Young’s mediumship is unworthy of his 
ghosts, who are too patronizing, too boast- 
ful for good taste. Realizing the absence 
of an essential ingredient, our author at- 
tempts to astound us by the depth and 
diversity of his learning. A vast number 
of critical allusions lead one to suspect that 
this portion of the work was written in 
the reference room of the New York Pub- 
lic Library. 

Most addressed to the present reader is 
the fourth section, “The Art of Directing.” 
Our authority finds truly that the art of 
directing lies between two extremes — one 
the subjection of the play to the director’s 
personality, the other the subjugation of 
the director to the author’s idea. Whether 
your work is patterned after that of Cecil 
B. or William C., this section will bear 
reading for its re-statement of familiar 
problems and its discursive glances into the 
unknown. 

The writer draws a novel parallel be- 
tween the stage director and orchestra con- 
ductor, and sees in the contrapuntal changes 
of physical action and dramatic point a 
theory of stage direction as the conducting 
of a visual music addressed to the eye. 

Although the first requirement for photo- 
graphing Mr. Young’s theories of direc- 
tion would be such perfect working con- 
ditions as the screen has never known, his 
ideas seem often sound and valuble. The 
man who is doing “costume stuff” will 
find many of his difficulties reduced to 
simplicity by the keenly sensible discussion 
on the difference between empty form and 
pulsating life. 

At the end of one paragraph a perfect 
phrase unexpectedly sums up the aim of 
all direction: “to engage the audience’s at- 
tention with its constantly fresh vitality and 
surprise.” 

In the last section, “Sophocles’ Guest,” 
we travel with an imaginary young Amer- 
ican to witness the revival of Oedipus Rex 
in an equally imaginary Greece. At the 
end of thirty pages we learn that this im- 
possible feat has been performed to teach 
us that American and Greek cannot be 
reduced to an intellectual common denomi- 
nator. As the lesson has nothing to do 
with our theatre, it might as well have 
been learned in any library or at any 
peanut stand. 

Considering Mr. Young’s startlingly 
uneven book as a whole, Glamour shows 
him at his best as a theorist and at his 



1925 



1 MOTIOH MIUM 

director 



55 



worst as a journalist. In form as well as 
in matter, his reporting and correspondence 
are juvenile when compared to his aesthetic 
and technical criticisms. Even these are 
marred by a pedantry, a gratuitous exhibi- 
tion of the Young culture when it has 
nothing to do with the case, which makes 
the temptation to prick a few of his bub- 
bles irresistable. 

For his prose, invigoratingly pure in its 
finest passages, is inexcusably slovenly in 
its worst. There are such locutions as 
“People were numerous who objected.” 
The rambling inconsequence of “When 
you know well the Greek marbles in the 
Naples museum — but in the north you 
meet, etc.,” is exceeded in affectation only 
by the baffling beginning “It was as well 
that the visitor to these shores from Paris 
should be Madame Cecile Sorel.” And it 
seems comic that so stylistic a poet as 
Francis Thompson should be misquoted by 
so precious a stylist as Stark Young. 

John Francis Natteford. 



The Motion Picture Industry 

(Continued from Page 34) 
Indictment That fellow’s got a wonder- 
ful imagination — he thinks that everyone 
in the game must be a Director. 

Al 

Did you ever ask him why he does it ? 

Jim 

Sure. We’ve gone to his place and asked 
him to give us a square deal. Over and 
over again he tells us that he’s sorry — the 
mistake won’t happen again — and before 
we reach the sidewalk he stops the presses 
and inserts on the front page in larger let- 
ters, “Prominent DIRECTORS Try to 
Bribe This Paper!” He’s a cuckoo! 

ScAREHEAD 

Well, Boys, glad to have had such a so- 
ciable time. Anything I can do you for — 
I mean do for you — you know — call on 
me j Everybody 

(With meaning emphasis) 

Good-bye ! 

(Scarehead exits , well satisfied with 
himself) 

Al 

I’ll never read a newspaper again. 

Jim 

What paper do you read ? 

Al 

None. I don’t know how. But I listen 
to the Radio. Roy 

(At the Heart table) 

There goes my last million dollars! A 
motion for adjournment is now in order. 

Joe 

In conclusion I -would like to say: The 
Spirit of Fraternalism that permeates the 
atmosphere. Al 

He’s stealing the other fellow’s stuff. 

Jim 

They all do it. It’s a privilege of the 
order. 

(They all sing The M.P.D.A. Chorus 
as The Curtain Falls.) 



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56 



September 



Talking It Over 

(Continued from Page 2) 
of players, their matrimonial status or sim- 
ilar queries of a distinctly “fan” nature, 
but simply specializes on subjects more in 
character with the publication as a whole. 

A NOTHER new feature and one that 
. we hope will prove of general interest 
to all our readers is the department de- 
voted to Angle Shots Around Holly- 
wood Studios. Here each month will be 
presented short paragraphs touching on the 
activities of studio folk, items of personal 
interest about everyone concerned with the 
making of films. Other departments of 
similar nature are also being planned with 
a view to making The Director of great- 
er interest both to the men and women ac- 
tually engaged in the making of pictures 
and to the host of folk throughout the 
country who are genuinely interested in 
the production side of the “movies.” 

A S A matter of interest to both studio 
folk and those far afield, The Di- 
rector introduces this month a chart of 
studio activity showing the status and pro- 
gress of production. Under the heading 
New Pictures in the Making a month to 
month record of directorial activity will 
be published in each succeeding issue. For 



t ~\ motion ruruu 

director 

the present, at least, this record will be 
confined to the activities of those directors 
who are actually producing in Hollywood 
studios, or are on location from Holly- 
wood. Because of the difficulty in getting 
accurate and timely reports on the activi- 
ties of directors who are producing in 
Eastern studios or are engaged in making 
pictures in foreign locales no attempt will 
be made to record the progress of that 
work. 

S O MUCH for this issue. We hope 
that you will like it and that you will 
find it thoroughly entertaining — perhaps 
.really helpful. Your comments will be 
gratefully appreciated and constructive 
criticism designed to help us in making 
The Director a bigger and better maga- 
zine is always welcome ; for after all this 
is your publication and unless we run it in 
such a manner as to make it genuinely 
pleasing to you, we have failed in the 
responsibility we bear toward our readers. 

Next month The Director will con- 
tain many features of interest. There will 
be the departments already described, ad- 
ditional installments of Frank Cooley’s 
narrative, The Barnstormer, and the two 
serials now running, Thundering Silence 
and The Night Bride, and another article 
in the Why Hollywood? series. 



Bertram A. Holiday, who discusses the 
question Can They Come Back? in the 
current issue, has written for The Di- 
rector a discussion of the costume picture 
as a box office attraction, and analyzes some 
new slants on this problem which has con- 
cerned the production world since the early 
days of film activity. 




Do You 
Like This 
Issue of 




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One Difference Between a Subscriber and a Once-in-a-while 

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Eastman Film is identified in the 
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]. Stuart Blackton 

Editor 





Bernard A. Holway 

Managing Editor 



Dedicated to the Creation of a Better Understanding Between Those 
Who Make and Those Who See Motion Pictures 



I T is with a sincere feeling of sympathy and regret that the 
management of The Motion Picture Director is called 
upon to announce the resignation of George L. Sargent, 
founder of the magazine as the official publication of the Motion 
Picture Directors’ Association and its editor during the first year 
of its existence. For the past 
several months Mr. Sargent’s 
eyes have been giving him in- 
creasing trouble, and while that 
condition is considered only tem- 
porary and largely due to a ner 



Vol.z. No. 4 



CONTENTS 



who are entertained by the products of the industry — and to the 
frank discussion by readers and contributors of features of screen 
production which are of interest to both. 

In a sense The Motion Picture Director is blazing a new 
trail, and asks the constructive aid of its readers both within the 

field of motion picture produc- 
tion and exhibition and without. 
Nov. 1925 No publication belongs to itself 
but to those whom it serves. 



King Vidor ( Photo by Ruth Harriet Louise) Cover 



vous affliction of the eye muscles, 
a complete rest has been deemed 
necessary. 

M UCH as we regret the cir- 
cumstances attending Mr. 

Sargent’s resignation, it is with 
pardonable and justifiable pride 
that the management announces 
the advent of J. Stuart Blackton 
as editor-in-chief of the publica- 
tion. Mr. Blackton is particu- 
larly fitted for the editorial chair 
of such a magazine as The 
Motion Picture Director. As 
the founder and organizer of 
Vitagraph he is one of the pio- 
neer producer-directors of the 
motion picture industry and has 
since its earliest days been one of 
its foremost exponents. Now 
that Vitagraph has become a unit 
of Warner Brothers production 
program, Commodore Blackton 
continues his production and di- 
rectorial activities in association 
with that enterprise. 

In addition to his long years 
of experience in motion picture 
production, Commodore Black- 
ton also brings to The Direc- 
tor definite publication experi- 
ence as founder and early advisor 
of the Brewster Publications, 
publishing Motion Picture Mag- 
azine and The Motion Picture 
Classic. 

With J. Stuart Blackton as 
its editorial head The Director 
is definitely launched on a pro- 
gram of activity which has as its 

purpose the creation of a better understanding between those who 
make and those who see motion pictures. In the furtherance of 
that purpose its columns shall be devoted to the discussion of 
interesting phases of motion picture production activity — phases 
which are of concern both to those within the industry and those 



J. Stuart Blackton 



In the Director’s Chair 

Screen Personalities 

Directing Harold Lloyd . . . Sam Taylor 

Why Hollywood? Robert Vignola 

KFWB Norman Manning 

Custom vs. Costume . . Bertram A. Holiday 

New Stories Albert LeVino 

The Man on the Cover 

The Big Parade 

The Night Bride (A Serial) 

The Screen Club .... 

Grown-Ups and the Serial 

William Lord W right 
Bill Hart . Adam Hull Shirk 



Robert M. Finch 
. Frederic Chapin 
Harry D. Wilson 



Sid Grauman 
Frank Cooley 



3 

7 

13 

15 

17 

19 

23 

25 

30 

33 

34 

35 

36 
38 

41 



I 



Motives and Motifs . . . 

The Barnstormer (Part III) 

Directorial Briefs . . . 

Off Screen Personalities 42 

Angle Shots 45 

Slants on Exploitation The Boulevard Reporter 47 

The Directory 49 

Wampas Doin’s A. Wampa 51 

What the Directors Are Doing 

Charley Chase Turns to Acting Edith Ryan 

Getting the Third Dimension 

FOCUS Wilfrid North 

The Wasps Edith Ryan 



N no way may the purpose of 
the magazine be more effectu- 
ally accomplished than by serv- 
ing as a medium for the inter- 
change of ideas between those 
who make motion pictures and 
those who see. Published in the 
heart of the film center of the 
world, by men who are actively 
engaged in the production of 
screen entertainment, for those 
engaged in motion picture activ- 
ity as well as for those who con- 
stitute the theatre-going public 
of this country, we believe that 
The Motion Picture Direc- 
tor is peculiarly suited to that 
purpose. 

But, while we who are a part 
of the industry are in a position 
to present to you who see pic- 
tures subjects pertaining to the 
production side of that industry, 
your ideas can only be expressed 
by you. It is vital to the future 
of motion pictures that, as out- 
lined by Commodore Blackton in 
this issue, we receive from you 
expressions of your likes and dis- 
likes. Write us frankly and 
freely about the pictures you see. 
Tell us what you have liked and 
what you have not liked. Tell 
us, and through us, the motion 
picture industry of which we are 
a part, the kind of pictures you 
would like to see. Help us to 
make The Director a meeting 
place for the frank discussion of 
ideas. And tell us too about the 
magazine. By so doing you will 
aid us in making your publica- 
tion of greater interest and value to you. Tell us what depart- 
ments you would like to see introduced, what new features devel- 
oped and how you like the departments and features in the cur- 
rent issues. But above all else write us frankly about the pictures 
you see and the pictures you would like to see. 



52 

55 

58 

61 

64 



Published Monthly by The Director Publishing Corporation, 1925 Wilcox Avenue, Hollywood, Calif. J. Stuart Blackton, president; Frank 
Cooley, secretary and treasurer; Richmond Wharton, business manager, J. Stuart Blackton," editor ; Bernard A. Holway, managing editor.’ Single 
copies 25 cents, yearly subscription, $2.50. 

Entered as second class matter, October 1, 1925, at the postoffice in Los Angeles, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. 

PRINTED IN U.S.A. 



2 



T^V MOTION WCTIW 

©irector 



November 




1801 LARCHMONT AV£- 

CHICAGO. 



NEW YORK 



~ULH 



MAKES MOVIES AS THE EYE SEES 



THE NEW STANDARD AUTOMATIC 

« 

Professional Motion Picture Gamera 





Veil rr e II, Nmber 4 



November, 1925 





7/z the Directors Ghair 



Taxation Without Representation 

I T is exceedingly doubtful whether the average American real- 
izes how completely motion pictures have become an integral 
part of the daily life of the nation and it would be interesting 
to know what would happen if, without warning, there should 
suddenly be issued a ukase against the theatre, banning motion 
pictures and kindred entertainment in every city, village and ham- 
let in the country. 

Fortunately we are not living in Russia where such things are 
not only possible, but where such a ukase was actually issued and, 
for a time at least, all theatrical entertainment of any sort was 
completely forbidden. And yet it is typical of the American 
public that only by some such dictatorial assumption of authority 
or mandatory prohibition of what has been conceived as constitut- 
ing an item of personal priviledge are the one hundred and ten 
millions who constitute the American people to be galvanized 
into action. 

The “movies” have become accepted so universally that the 
average American either accepts complacently and as a matter 
of course the screen entertainment that is offered him, or else rants 
and raves and threatens to withdraw his patronage when the 
production doesn’t suit. Has it ever occurred to him that he has 
a part to play, that upon him devolves some measure of responsi- 
bility for the sort of entertainment he receives? 

And yet one of the most vital questions confronting the motion 
picture industry today is “What sort of pictures does the public 
want ?” 

The whole future of motion pictures depends to a marked 
degree upon arriving with some degree of accuracy at an answer 
to that question. 

At present practically the only source of guidance that the 
industry has to the type of pictures desired comes from the exhibi- 
tor and the distributor. If a picture doesn’t bring the returns that 
the exhibitor or distributor expects, whether it is the fault of the 
picture, of the advertising or attributable to economic conditions 



existing at the time, that production is thoroughly “panned” and 
the producer turns desperately toward the development of sure- 
fire box office angles that will insure box office success for his 
productions. And he cannot wholly be blamed for that attitude; 
for the production of motion pictures is a business venture with 
him. He puts in dollars that more dollars may come out. Every 
picture produced is a gamble, who can blame him if he seeks to 
modify the gamble by injecting a sure-thing element? 

The director, on the other hand, the man who actually makes 
the picture, is concerned primarily with making a production that 
will be a credit to his artistry, that will please his patrons and 
thereby, because he has created satisfied customers for his product, 
insure for the producer adequate return for the investment made. 
To the director the question of what the public wants is of para- 
mount importance. He sincerely and earnestly desires to know 
what kind of pictures will please that he may bend every effort 
toward shaping and fashioning his work to that end. 

Because of the power and the magnitude of the industry, and 
its importance in the every day life of the nation — it is vital to 
the future development of the industry that the men who are 
directly responsible for the making of pictures should know from 
the public just what kind of entertainment that public really 
wants. 

Since the signing of the Magna Charta the voice of the people 
has guided the affairs of English-speaking countries. Indepen- 
dence of the thirteen colonies was established on the premise of 
government of the people, by the people, and for the people. The 
War of the American Revolution w T as predicated on the principle 
that “Taxation without representation is tyranny.” 

Have the American people now foisted upon themselves “taxa- 
tion” at the box office without representation in the Film Capital 
of the Nation? 

T he Motion Picture Director has been dedicated to cre- 
ating a closer understanding between those who make and 
those who see motion pictures. We believe that the purpose of 
this magazine can be achieved with no greater effectiveness than by 



4 



N ovember 



©irector 



serving as a medium for the presentation of the likes and dislikes 
of the theatre-going public to the industry of which this publica- 
tion is a part. Through its columns thpse who see may find 
expression to those who make, and, by stating frankly what kind 
of pictures they really want, thus secure in the Film Capital of 
the Motion World that representation which is their inalienable 
right. 

Write to The Director your views on current productions. 
Tell us and through us the motion picture industry as a whole, 
what you have liked and why, and what you have not liked and 
why. Just one letter from one individual won’t achieve the re- 
sult but many letters will. It is the purpose of The Director 
to make it possible for the lay public, the men and women who 
are the support of motion pictures, to have a voice in the guidance 
of the industry. Will you take advantage of that opportunity? 
Will you write us freely and frankly telling us just what you 
think? Will you work with us toward the end of developing 
the one hundred percent entertainment that is the goal of the 
industry? 

For instance, we have learned one fundamental truth concern- 
ing the likes and dislikes of the American people — their preference 
for the happy ending. With this as a starting point every direc- 
tor, every producer and every author versed in the technique of 
the screen endeavors to shape the screen story logically and natur- 
ally to that finis. And we believe that we have learned why the 
American people like the happy ending. Having learned why we 
are then in a position intelligently to .create entertainment features 
which, in that respect, at least, we know are sure to find favor 
with the public. Because we do know why we know just how far 
we can deviate from this fundamental law of motion pictures and 
still produce pleasing entertainment. 

But there are other elements which go into the building of 
screen entertainment and it is about these other factors that we 
urge you to write The Director, giving frank expression to your 
views on current screen production. Tell us frankly just what 
you like and what you don’t like, remembering that The Direc- 
tor is published by those who make for those who see motion pic- 
tures and that in writing to The Director you are actually 
writing to the motion picture industry of which it is a part, that 
your letters will be seen and read by the men who are making 
pictures and who are vitally concerned with learning from you 
your likes and dislikes. 

The Director offers you an opportunity to free yourself from 
the burden of “taxation without representation” by registering 
your vote for the type of screen productions you wish, not at the 
box office, but directly to your representatives in the Film Capital. 

Plagiarism 

r'l'^HE publicity given the decision rendered by Judge Samuel 
H. Sibley of the United States Court in Atlanta, Ga., in 
the case of Mrs. Mattie Thomas Thompson against Cecil 
B. DeMille, Famous Players-Lasky Corporation and Jeanie Mac- 
pherson, charging plagiarism in the production of the DeMille 
feature, The Ten Commandments, together with the method of 
reasoning whereby Judge Sibley reached his decision that Mrs. 
Thompson had failed to establish her case, should do much to- 



ward correcting what has long been a serious problem in the pro- 
duction world. 

Plagiarism has been a constantly growing bugaboo which has 
increased in magnitude in direct proportion to the increase in the 
popularity of the screen and the growth of the industry. There 
has been a growing tendency on the part of producers to close 
their doors entirely to the original screen story created by outside 
writers solely because of this fact, and to turn their attention more 
and more exclusively to the adaptation of published books or suc- 
cessful stage plays to which screen rights may be purchased with 
reasonable security. The recently announced stand of the Cecil 
DeMille studio on this subject, in which it was announced that 
in the future all unsolicited manuscripts submitted would be re- 
turned to the sender unopened, is a significant illustration. 

Conscious and deliberate plagiarism on the part of motion pic- 
ture producers — entirely aside from the moral and ethical issues 
involved — is so obviously the worst kind of business that one is 
constrained to wonder why there should ever have arisen the 
accusation of story piracy. No producer who has any hope of 
success in the motion picture field would dare for one moment 
deliberately to steal a story idea in whole or in part from any 
manuscript submitted to him. He simply couldn’t afford to do 
so. And yet comparatively few of the big productions of recent 
years which have been based on historic fact or on the develop- 
ment of a purely fictional plot written directly for the screen 
have escaped without charges of plagiarism. 

The distressing part of it is the fact that in so many instances 
it would seem that the plaintiffs have been entirely sincere in 
their accusations and have really believed that their stories or ideas 
have been deliberately stolen. Yet it has been amply demonstrated 
in the field of mechanical invention that it is entirely possible for 
two minds in remotely separated regions of the country to develop 
almost the same identical idea under circumstances which utterly 
preclude the possibility of theft. Similarly in developing plots 
for screen plays it has been demonstrated in numerous instances 
that while one fundamental idea underlying an original scenario 
submitted to a studio may be the same as that upon which a fin- 
ished production has been built, the picture itself was in produc- 
tion or even actually completed and ready for release before the 
manuscript containing that idea had been received. 

Judge Sibley’s decision in which Miss Macpherson is accredited 
as the author of the scenario of The Ten Commandments and 
which acquits Cecil de Mille and the Famous Players-Lasky Cor- 
poration from any accusation of conscious plagiarism, emphasizes 
a point that is of particular interest. In reviewing the evidence 
presented by Mrs. Thompson he points out that the notes and the 
completed script of the story she claims to have written bear such 
a striking resemblance to the continuity of the finished production 
as to afford foundation for the deduction that they could only have 
been written after the picture had been completely edited and pre- 
pared for release. 

He points out that such close similarity between Mrs. Thomp- 
son’s script and the finished production would imply that her story 
could only have been influenced by either the picture or by ad- 
vance information concerning the structural plot of the story as 
finally cut and edited. This brings forth another phase of the 
situation which may afford some basis for the belief that, in 
some instances at least, plaintiffs in cases charging plagiarism on 



1925 



5 



©irector 



the part of the producer have themselves been guilty of unconscious 
plagiarism. Granting sincerity on the part of those who believe 
themselves to have been sinned against it is but fair to assume that 
the power of suggestion has influenced them in unconsciously 
adapting another’s idea as their own, a situation which has con- 
fronted many writers. 

Judge Sibley’s decision as quoted in the Los Angeles Examiner 
of October 14, is so pertinent to the consideration of this whole 
subject that it is reprinted here: 

“It sufficiently appears that prior to 1919 the plaintiff, Mrs. 
Mattie Thomas Thompson, produced a scenario based on the 
Ten Commandments. 

“It is shown also that in 1920 the defendant, through Cecil 
B. De Mille, its officer and director, and Miss Jeanne MacPher- 
son, an employee, produced a motion picture called ‘The Ten 
Commandments’ and having a similar structure and plot. Use 
or knowledge of the work of the plaintiff is wholly denied bv 
Mr. De Mille and M iss MacPherson and their associates. 

“M rs. Thompson now produced in her own handwriting cer- 
tain notes and a short synopsis of her play, a copy of which she 
claims to have sent defendant in 1919. The similarity is such as 
to compel the belief that these cannot be independent productions 
but were taken one from the other. 

“The most plausible theory for the defendants is that the 
plaintiff, seeing the announcement of the forthcoming picture in 
the fall of 1923, conceived the idea that her work had been 
stolen, got a copy of a newspaper article describing the picture, 
or of the elaborate program put out later containing most of the 
article, and others more fully setting forth the plot and action, 
and becoming confirmed in the belief that the picture was taken 
from her scenarios, completely identified them in her mind, and 
thereupon she sat down from memory her synopsis under the 
influence of what she had read from the program, practically 
reproducing it. 

“I find grave troubles about adopting either theory. It is 
preposterous that Mrs. Thompson should have fabricated the case 
entirely, and hardly less so that she should have made these papers 
since the issue arose with the fraudulent purpose of palming them 
off as of an earlier date. 

“On the other hand, it appears that Mr. De Mille was pay- 
ing generously for his materials. More than a million dollars 
was expended in making the picture. Such an investment would 
not have been placed on a stolen foundation, hardly disguised, 
with the certainty of a reckoning in court on presenting the 
picture. 

“The manuscripts of Miss MacPherson, moreover, show pain- 
ful development, with almost numberless changes, additions and 
substitutions by Mr. De Mille, refuting the idea of the adoption 
of a perfected model. 

“The similarity of verbiage is not, however, so much to what 
is in the photoplay the work of Mr. De Mille and Miss Mac- 
Pherson, or in the synopsis prepared from the latter by Mr. 
Kiesling, but to the program, itself a reproduction of a news- 
paper article. 

While I should be loath to conclude that Mrs. Thompson 
has undertaken to perpetrate a fraud on the defendant and on 
the court, she has not convinced me that the defendant has done 
the like. Having the burden of proof on this issue, I must hold 
that she has failed to carry it and so loses her contention.” 

Unit Production 

R ESPONSIBILITY without proportionate authority weak- 
ens the functioning of any organization and lessens by the 
ratio between those two elements the surety of success. 

This fundamental law which applies to all forms of industrial 
and commercial activity loses none of its effectiveness when ap- 
plied to the production of motion pictures. No great achieve- 
ment is possible unless authority as well as responsibility for its 



accomplishment is vested in the man upon whom that burden is 
placed. 

It is a recognized fact that ocean liners cannot be successfully 
navigated by the officers of a steamship company — there must be 
a captain and a well-trained crew for each ship. And once the 
ship leaves the dock the captain, by the unwritten law of the sea, 
is in supreme command. 

A motion picture production cannot be directed by a group 
of people sitting “in conference.” A successful and artistic pic- 
ture must be the result of the creative thought and work of its 
director. 

An orchestra can play tunes without a leader, but it would be 
sorry music. A Richard Hageman, a Sir Henry Wood, or an 
Alfred Hertz is necessary to produce real music. 

A successful publishing company finances, prints, manages and 
sells books, but if the officers, business manager, circulation mana- 
ger, advertising manager and head printer were to pull apart and 
reconstruct the writings of their famous authors, the result would 
not make very successful literature — and yet this is what is hap- 
pening every day in the making of motion pictures. 

Just as surely as the fact that the reading public would turn 
in disgust from the mangled and maltreated remains of an author’s 
work, if treated as above, so surely will the theatre-going public 
turn aside from the factory made, routine developed, mediocre 
picture. Such a product cannot earn its cost. The successful 
motion picture of the future, artistically and financially, will be 
that in which the real creative artist is allowed to express his in- 
dividuality, unfettered and unhindered, in the same manner as his 
brother workers in the kindred arts of music, painting and litera- 
ture. 

Upon the director falls the responsibility for the completed prod- 
uct. Give him the authority that should accompany that re- 
sponsibility. 

War Pictures 

I N the pendulumistic swing of popular favor war pictures again 
seem riding to the ascendency, and the reception by the theatre- 
going public of such productions as The Dark Angel and 
The Big Parade is being watched with genuine interest. Whether 
the time is ripe now for a revival of vivid recollections of all that 
the World War meant to the American that stayed home and the 
American that went overseas is a matter of conjecture. Advance 
showings of The Dark Angel and The Big Parade have brought 
from overseas veterans keen expression of interest. But what of 
those to whom the war brought nothing but misery, grief and 
pain ? Are the scars left upon them by the war sufficiently healed 
that they can view impersonally the harrowing details which are 
essential to war pictures which are truly pictures of the war? 

It is particularly interesting to note that in both these produc- 
tions realism has reached a much higher point than has been at- 
tained hithertofore. This is particularly true of The Big Parade 
by unanimous verdict of those who have witnessed the advance 
showings of this production. We have had war pictures touching 
on fragmentary issues and isolated instances, or with the recon- 
structive period which has followed the Avar, but here are vivid, 
realistic productions Avhich depict the great conflict as it actually 
was, that convey as have few screen achievements of recent year 
the spirit of the Avar. 

What will be the verdict of the theatre-going public? Does 
the public Avant pictures of the Avar as it actually Avas? The ex- 
periment at least should pnwe interesting for drama is the founda- 
tion of the cinema and drama without conflict cannot exist. War 
presents one of the greatest elements of conflict the Avorld knoAvs. 



6 



■ ~\ mo no»* ntTvn 

director 



November 




WOMEN’S 

KNOX 

HATS and COATS 



Rossiter 

220-222 W. 7th St. 



( After January 1st at 645 S. Flower St.) 





Photo by Witzel 

Chappell Dossett 

to the Ameri- 
can screen whose work gives much promise, and 
who comes to this country after eight years of 
European experience, a large part of which was 
spent as production manager for the London 
Film Company. When the Ben Hur company 
went abroad, Chappell Dossett joined the cast 



to play the role of Drusus. When Fred Niblo 
brought Ben Hur back to Hollywood, Dossett 
continued in the cast. Upon completing his 
role as Drusus his next appearance has been 
with William Neill in the Fox production of 
The Cowboy Prince. Dossett has distinctive 
screen personality and looks like a comer on the 
American silver sheet. 








Photo by Melbourne Spurr 



Tvrnnr Pn7i)Pir * s anot ^ er 

J ' x [y / ever-growing num- 

ber of veteran stage 
actors permanently to ally themselves on the 
side of the silent drama. After six months of 



free lancing in Hollywood, Tyrone Powers con- 
siders himself definitely a part of the motion 
picture colony and finds in the cinema a variety 
of roles that afford opportunities for interpre- 
tive work seldom found on the stage. 




Bert Woodruff 

out of the juve- 
nile class, is nevertheless popularly known as 
the “G.A.R. Juvenile of the Screen,” an appel- 
lation which is readily understandable by those 



who have witnessed his characterizations of this 
rapidly diminishing group of Civil War veter- 
ans. Woodruff is one of those veterans of the 
profession who may always be depended upon 
for human characterizations of difficult roles. 





T^firp through a series of remark- 
JT / iLc a biy human portrayals has 
created for herself a repu- 
tation as the screen’s foremost character actress. 
Tn all her work there is that element of genuine- 
ness, of human understanding, that adds a vital 
touch of realism to any production in which she 



appears. Like others who have risen to the top 
of her profession, she is a graduate of the old 
Vitagraph school. As a daughter of old Erin, 
she is particularly at home in humorous and 
semi-humorous roles calling for Irish charac- 
terizations. 




Photo by Freulich 

1/lClil JA (J f f l j/ pendable players 

who can always be 
counted upon for effective work as a featured 
lead. Because of this very dependability and 
the recognized following he has won, he is 
much in demand as a free lance. For instance, 
having completed his work as male lead for 



Harry Beaumont’s production of Rose of the 
W orld , he was called to the M-G-M studios in 
Jackie Coogan’s picture, Old Clothes , and is 
now playing male lead opposite Barbara de la 
Mott, in Robert Vignola’s production of Fifth 
Avenue , now filming at Metropolitan studio for 
Belasco. 





Photo by Hartsook 

Claire McDowell 

and her actor husband 

Charles Hill Mailes 



constitute one of the oldest teams in the acting profession. 
Both are “graduates” from the speaking stage as well as 
from the old Biograph Company and have appeared to- 
gether in many roles in stage and screen. Their most recent 
production in which both have appeared has been Ben Hur. 
Claire McDowell appears as the mother in The Big Parade 
and has been cast in a similar role in Hobart Henley’s 
forthcoming production for M-G-M, Free Lips, in which 
Norma Shearer plays the feminine lead opposite Lew Cody. 



13 



director 




Directing Harold 

Lloyd 



Hk 



By 

Sam 

Taylor 



S TYLES in entertainment change as 
rapidly and as radically as any dress 
mode, a fact that has been amply 
demonstrated in every branch of entertain- 
ment : magazine fiction, novels, stage plays 
and especially, motion pictures. In no field 
of entertainment activity, however, has 
this been more strongly indicated than in 
the realm of comedy production. 

During the past few years has been 
evidenced a steady trend toward what we 
were wont to call in former days, “subtle 
comedy” — the comedy that builds its hu- 
mor on a dramatic foundation, the comedy 
that is treated seriously and with infinite 
attention to structural details, the comedy 
that is actually built just as a contractor 
rears a limit height building rather than 
one which is just thrown together. 

Early exponents of this type of comedy 
were Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew and a 
decade ago the “know-it-alls” were loud in 
their affirmations that the subtle comedy 
of the Drews would never go over. But 
they put it over and were becoming thor- 
oughly established as leaders in this parti- 
cular type of comedy when Sidney Drew’s 
death intervened. 

Until Harold Lloyd stepped into the 
breach with the new distinct type of dra- 
matic comedy which has placed him today 
in the front rank of box-office attractions, 
the trend toward dramatic comedy stag- 



nated and received but little impetus. 
Such developments as were made in this 
direction were limited to the field of com- 
edy dramas, rollicking dramatic stories 
with a strong undercurrent of humor — 
productions of the type that the late Wal- 
lace Reid did so effectively. 

Lloyd’s steady rise to the top has not 
only brought him the success which he so 
richly deserved, but has also amply demon- 
strated the fundamental truth of the pre- 
mise upon which all of his pictures have 
been predicated : the treatment of comedy 
with the same seriousness as that accorded 
to dramatic productions, and the infusion 
of a strong vein of drama into comedy 
features of the story. 

There is a vast difference between com- 
edv-drama and dramatic comedy of the 
Lloyd type. The first is fundamentally 
dramatic, as its name implies. Whatever 
comedy it has, is injected to provide relief 
between intensely dramatic sequences and 
to give the audience a rest from emotional 
strain. 

A dramatic comedy is, naturally, basic- 
ally aimed to produce laughter. The 
drama which is infused into it, is placed 
there not alone to rest the audience’s risi- 
bilities — which is important enough from a 
physiological point of view — but also to 
knit together the comedy sequences in the 
network of a fundamentally dramatic story. 



Thus alone can we tell a logically-moti- 
vated comedy story and it is this practice 
which has made the Lloyd pictures what 
they are today and which is bringing about 
a revolution in all comedy producing. 

Motion pictures have found their most 
genuine expression in comedies rather than 
in dramas and, in the double race toward 
the goal of perfection, comedy has far out- 
stripped any other type of picture. I can 
say this without being accused of prejudice 
or bias, since it is only a reiteration of what 
the sincerest students of the screen have 
already said. 

In the first place, the fundamental tech- 
nique of motion pictures is pantomime and 
even a surface study reveals the supremacy 
of the comedians in the pantomimic field. 
And with the supremacy of this type of 
actor, there has been a corresponding im- 
provement in story-telling and in the di- 
rection of comedies far beyond the heights 
reached in dramatic productions! True 
pictures should, of course, be told in action 
rather than in words, and the possibilities 
for such narration through pictures are far 
greater in the comedy field. 

C OMEDIES have gone ahead through 
recognizing the artistic and intellec- 
tual development of motion picture audi- 
ences far more than the dramatic films have 
done. The screen public has not only im- 
proved in its ability to “read film;” it has 



14 



November 



_T “N MOTION PU 1 LRI 

director 





also developed real artistic ideals — an im- 
provement in mass taste which has never 
before been even approached in the devel- 
opment of any other art-expression within 
a similar period of time. The screen pub- 
lic has graduated from the kindergarten 
stage of Sunday-supplement, alleged humor. 
The custard pie industry is now restrict- 
ing itself to the manufacture of edible 
dainties rather than 
comic missiles and even 
bathing beauties must 
be able to act a little 
in addition to the 
sculptural charm of 
their lower limbs ! 

Some slapstick has, of 
course, survived and 
we shall always have 
it, but to a more and 
more limited extent. 

Harold Lloyd’s 
drawing power is due 
not only to his own 
charming personality, 
but also because his 
pictures have shown a 
realization of the 
changed desires of mo- 
tion picture audiences. 

The Lloyd comedies 
have gags, of course; 
but always the gag fur- 
thers the story. In fact, 
only those incidents 
which fulfill this re- 
quirement, as well as 
being intrinsically fun- 
ny, can stay in the pic- 
ture. And underneath 
the whole structure is 
a foundation of legiti- 
mate plot and charac- 
ter development as con- 
sistent as in any of the 
so-called dramatic 
films. 

In fact, our practise 
in preparing the sce- 
narios for Lloyd’s pic- 
tures, during the per- 
iod before actual shoot- 
ing, reveals this truism. 

Our first task is to 

write a dramatic foundation structure, that 
we divide the scenario into “factions,” or 
integral sequences, and then proceed to the 
insertion of gags into them. First we “gag 
up” the initial faction and then while I am 
directing Harold in this sequence, the gag 
men in the office are preparing the inci- 
dents and treatment for the second faction. 
Always, of course, under Lloyd’s guidance 
and my own supervision — and so on, until 
we have shot the several factions which 
compose the story. 

T HE FRESHMAN illustrates, per- 
haps better than any other Lloyd pic- 
ture outside of Girl Shy , our method of 
injecting drama into comedy. Interspersed 
in this rollicking story of collegiate life 
are several incidents of poignant pathos 



and real romance. There is a really beauti- 
ful sweetness in the first meeting of Harold 
and Jobyna on the train and a wistfulness 
in the scene where her maternal instinct 
leads her to rescue him from the ordeal 
of sewing on his buttons. 

There is real drama in the building up 
of the photograph episode, where Harold 
first puts his own picture below that of the 



Harold Lloyd hands 
Sam Taylor his fifth 

MEGAPHONE, SYMBOLIZ- 
ING HIS FIFTH YEAR AS 

Lloyd’s director. 



most popular man in college whom he has 
set up for himself as his ideal. Later, he 
puts his picture alongside of his hero and, 
finally, above it. It is not a spirit of boast- 
fulness, but the expression of a youth’s 
realization of a cherished ambition and a 
universal youngster’s trick of bolstering up 
his own courage by telling himself he is 
achieving what he has set out to accom- 
plish. And Harold’s complete break-down 
and sobbing in the lap of the girl he loves, 
when he realizes that he has all along been 
the student joke rather than the college 
idol, is to my mind as dramatic an episode 
as anything I have ever seen on the screen. 
The incident of the photographs enters 
again, to symbolize the drama, by the in- 
troduction of a flash shot of his empty room 



— a gust of wind blows Harold’s picture 
off the wall and into the waste basket ! 

Do you remember the sweet romance in 
Girl Sliy, where Harold saves the box 
which once held the dog biscuit for Joby- 
na’s pet and where she, in turn, keeps the 
crackerjack container which they enjoyed 
together? The episode had a comedy 
twist, it is true ; but we all of us felt that 
the romance of it was 
just as strong and just 
as sweet as the trite 
dramatic form of the 
boy treasuring his 
girl’s handkerchief or 
her pressing a flower 
which her lover had 
given to her. Then 
there was the scene in 
the publisher’s office, 
where Harold brings 
his treatise on how to 
make love, with all the 
seriousness and studi- 
ousness of an erudite 
professor, when he 
realizes that his book 
of experiences is but 
the recounting of a 
series of episodes in 
which — to use the ver- 
nacular — “he has been 
kidded to death.” 

The use of two of 
Harold Lloyd’s pic- 
tures to point out spe- 
cific instances of gen- 
eral theories is not 
done, I assure you, in 
any spirit of boastful- 
ness, but because these 
very points have been 
mentioned repeatedly 
in countless criticisms 
of these two pictures 
and because, having 
worked out the inci- 
dents named, they 
come to my mind as il- 
lustrations of the poli- 
cies we have followed 
in making all of these 
pictures. 

The chief factor 
which has made it possible for us to inject 
drama into comedy has been the great tal- 
ent of Harold Lloyd and the fact that it is 
only pictures of this type which can really 
exploit his versatility as an all-round actor. 
This fact explains Lloyd’s supremacy and, 
at the same time, his responsibility for 

changing the entire course of comedy mak- 
ing. 

T HE improvements in comedy, based 

on the improvement in audience- 
desires — and the consequent wish of the 
audience for more comedy in all pictures 
— leads, in turn, to an explanation of the 
practice of introducing comedy into dramas. 
All of us, who are making pictures of any 
type, know of the recent coming of the 
(Continued on Page 50) 




IS 



192 5 



director 




Getting What You Want, When 
You Want It, Is Given As 
One of the Reasons 

Why 

Hollywood 

By Robert Vignola 



The Second of a Series of Articles Dis- 
cussing the Pros and Cons of Hollywood 
as the Center of Motion Picture Production 



O F the many genuinely adequate rea- 
sons why Hollywood is and in all 
probability will continue to be the 
logical center of motion picture production, 
the fact that Hollywood is the one place 
in the world where there are adequate fa- 
cilities for making pictures impresses me 
as being a factor well worthy of considera- 
tion. 

As a result of the location of the indus- 
try in Hollywood and its having become 
an important factor in the community 
there has grown up around the industry 
an amazing array of accessory features 
which have today become absolutely essen- 
tial to the efficient and economic production 
of modern film entertainment. 

Not the least important of these is the 
development of “prop” facilities. In ad- 
dition to the highly organized property 
rooms of the various studies there are a 
number of independent prop houses supply- 
ing all sorts of accessories for settings and 
costuming to which any producing unit may 
turn. 

Where else can such facilities be found ? 
For instance, while making Fifth Avenue 
for Belasco Productions in New York last 



month, I had a sudden need for a hat, size 
7%, such as might have been worn by a 
young blood of the fifties. In Hollywood 
a phone call -would have brought me twenty 
of them in an hour. I could have en- 
trusted their selection to any of half a 
dozen agencies which exist for that purpose. 
In New York, it took me three days to 
get one — and two men spent all of their 
time searching for it. 

The picture industry is built on props 
and costumes, more or less, and actors. 
And the good will of the community. 

T HERE is undoubtedly more genuine 
colonial furniture in New York than 
in Hollywood. There are, without question, 
more pewter mugs and bustles in Florida 
than in California. Spokane, Seattle, 
Portland and San Francisco — to mention 
several other cities that have embryo mo- 
tion picture studios — may possibly have 
more Indian head-dresses, more flint-lock 
muskets, more ox-carts, within their con- 
fines than has Los Angeles. 

But in Los Angeles the man who wants 
a flintlock, a bustle or a colonial high-boy, 
or twenty of each, can get them more 



quickly and more certainly than can anyone 
anywhere. 

If the prop or the costume he wants is 
not in the wardrobe or the prop room of 
the studio where he is making his picture, 
he can phone the Western Costume Com- 
pany or the immense rental prop depart- 
ment of the United Studios, or anyone of 
a score of other agencies and get what he 
wants in an hour or less. 

If he wants a lion, or a two-headed pink 
snake, or a dancing monkey or a whole 
menagerie ; if he wants a score of bald- 
headed negroes with white beards, or three 
red-headed Japanese; if he wants a three- 
inch cockroach that can’t swim or a Kaffir 
spear — all a director has to do is to con- 
sult a directory and phone the right num- 
ber — or, simpler yet, tell his assistant to 
get them. 

Nearly fifty thousand people are listed 
on the books of the various casting agencies 
— and included among them are club-footed 
giants, bow-legged dwarfs, sword-swallow- 
ers, snake-eaters, mothers with children 
aged anywhere from two days to seventy 
years, women noted for their beauty and 
for their ugliness. 



16 



©i rector 



November 




WANTED a boot-jack and a celluloid collar for 
another of the “Fifth Avenue” scenes in New 
ork. It would hare been a matter of a few minutes 
wait if we had been working in a Hollywood studio. 
It cost us a day — several thousand dollars. And then 
the celluloid collar came from Philadelphia. One of 
the prop men said his father lived there and he always 
wore them, so, after canvassing more than twenty 
shops in New York, he wired his father and the col- 
lars arrived at noon the next day. 

I will leave the discussion of the capital investment 
in the picture industry in Hollywood for someone 
better able to deal with it than I, but before leaving 
this subject I do want to point out that in New York 
the industry is one of hundreds — and of less import- 
ance to the community than the cloak and suit busi- 
ness. But to Hollywood, to Los Angeles, the in- 
dustry is of paramount (adv.) importance. Barker’s 
or any furniture house, will rent anything in its stock 
for a picture. The First National Bank, or the 
corner grocery in Watts, is always willing to allow its 
quarters or its employees to be used in a scene. 

As for me, personally, for the first time in my adult 
life I have a Home — and I am going to stay there. 
I’ll go to New York for a few weeks, or to Tim- 
buctoo, but I am going to Live in Hollywood for the 
rest of my life. I dwell on a hilltop, in quiet and 
peace with the lights of the city below me and those 
of God above me. In ten minutes I can be at work 
in the studio, in twenty at the theater. Forsake that 
for rumble, lights, excitement? I should say not! 

Nor will anyone else of importance in the industry 
that I know ! 



In the prop 

ROOMS OF THE 
STUDIOS ONE 
MAY FIND 
ANYTHING 
FROM A BIRD 
CAGE TO A 
FOUR-POSTED 

BED ABOVE, 

FOUR-POSTED 
BED DESIGNED 

for Mary 
Pickford’s 

USE IN 

“Little Lord 
Fauntel- 

ROY AT 

LEFT, ONE 
CORNER OF 
THE PROPERTY 
ROOMS AT THE 

United 

Studios. 








1925 



MOTION MI 1 WI 

©irector 



17 



Putting the 
Movies on 
the Air 




R ADIO has been frequently decried 
by theatrical wise-acres as being not 
only competitive to motion pictures 
but as even threatening the very existence 
of the motion picture theatre, but such has 
not been the experience of Warner Bros., 
who, as owners and operators of KFWB, 
the huge broadcasting station which domi- 
nates the air in Hollywood, occupy the 
unique position of being the only motion 
picture firm of national magnitude func- 
tioning in the radio world. 

In adopting the radio Warner Bros, 
have put into operation that age-old prin- 
ciple of converting what seems at first 
glance to be a destructive force, into an 
ally contributing its share toward the final 
results to be achieved. In this somewhat 
the same principle as that which has actu- 
ated the development of radio broadcasting 
as an adjunct to newspaper publishing has 
been followed. As an advertising medium 
the radio presented threatening aspects to 
the established advertising mediums of the 
community as represented by the news- 
papers until a certain domination of the 
air was acquired by the newspapers them- 
selves. 

Similarly in the cinematic world. While 
the radio might be conceived as possessing 



features detrimental to theatrical enter- 
tainment Warner Bros, have demonstrated 
through KFWB that it possesses distinc- 
tively constructive features which have 
tended to increase the popularity of the si- 
lent drama. For, just as the radio has 
had the effect of “vocalizing” newspaper 
advertising, so has KFWB served to create 
for Warner Bros, screen activities an in- 
terest heightened by the addition of an 
auditory appeal to the already existent op- 
tical features of screen attraction. 

This has been particularly demonstrated 
in the matter of creating among screen and 
radio fans, a more intimate contact with 
the personalities of the silent drama. In 
one sense, the radio as utilized by Warner 
Bros., has supplied the missing link be- 
tween stage and screen through broad- 
casting the voices of the stars appearing in 
the films. That these voices come to fans 
on the air and are wholly detached from 
visible expression of the star’s personality 
but adds interest and novelty to the ex- 
perience. Imagination readily supplies a 
mental picture of the star whose voice is 
heard, a picture that is frequently a com- 
posite of several of the roles which that 
star has played on the screen and which 
have particularly appealed to the auditor. 



T HUS the radio, in addition to its ad- 
vertising features, has proved a dis- 
tinct contribution to the screen interests of 
Warner Bros. Studio. 

And yet, when Warner Bros, decided to 
install their broadcasting station immedi- 
ate disaster was predicted and it was pro- 
nounced foolish opposition to their pictorial 
interests. So completely has its value been 
proven that plans are in consideration for 
establishing KFWB in the new theatre 
which Warner Bros, are to erect in the 
immediate future at Hollywood Boule- 
vard and Wilcox avenue. 

Not only that but it is planned further 
to develope its use in connection with War- 
ner Bros, screen studios and under the 
supervision of Frank Murphy, electrical 
engineer for the studio, six motor trucks 
have been designed and equipped with loud 
speakers, receiving sets, microphones and 
telephone attachments. Several of these 
trucks are now in operation on location 
and are proving their worth in the direc- 
tion of Warner Bros. Screen Classics. 
Particularly have they proved of value in 
directing mob scenes and in making clearly 
audible instructions to hundreds of people 
scattered all over the set. 



18 



N ovember 



T~'*^ MOTION MCTLItt 

©irector 



Other trucks have been sent East where 
a cross-country tie up it contemplated by 
which fans from coast to coast will be in- 
formed of events in movieland and will 
be told about current and forthcoming 
Warner productions. 

To this end “Chief” Murphy is now 
superintending the construction of a large 
portable broadcasting station which will be 
a miniature duplicate of KFWB. The 
power to operate will be supplied by two 
motor generators. Its call will be 6XBR; 
its wave length 108 meters. 

E VERY evening between ten and eleven 
a player from the studio stock com- 
pany, which includes Marie Prevost, Louise 
Fazenda, Irene Rich, Dorothy Devore, 
June Marlowe, Patsy Ruth Miller, Do- 
lores and Helene Costello, Alice Calhoun, 
M yrna Loy, John Barrymore, Monte Blue, 
Syd Chaplin, Huntlv Gordon, Willard 
Louis, John Roche, John Harron, John 
Patrick, Kenneth Harlan, Matt Moore, 
Clive Brook, Gayne Whitman, Charles 
Conklin, Don Alverado and Charles Far- 
rell, is selected to act as guest announcer. 
This gives fans who have seen them on 
the screen many times, an opportunity to 
hear their voices. 

In all respects KFWB is a motion pic- 
ture broadcasting station. It is not only 
owned and operated by a producer but it 



is the aim of W arners to knit a closer con- 
tact with their listeners and the industry. 
Various motion picture stars and directors 
drop in of an evening and they are imme- 
diately pressed into service to say a few 
words. On Sunday evening at the regular 
Warner Bros.’ hour the station holds an 
impromptu hour. Stars from all over 
Hollywood are invited and a regular screen 
family program is floated through the air. 
The atmosphere of Hollywood, the center 
of the motion picture industry, is imbued 
in the entire program. 

The station itself is a 500 watt Western 
Electric outfit erected and maintained by 
Frank Murphy, the studio chief engineer. 

The 150-foot towers are placed directly 
in front of the big white studio on Sunset 
Boulevard, one at each end of it, and all 
passers-by know that it is the motion pic- 
ture industry that boasts of Station 
KFWB. 

All radio fans know it and know they 
can hear their favorite star any evening 
between the hours of ten and eleven, but 
with mighty good programs every night 
from six to 12 p. m. “Don’t go ’way, 
folks, it’s KFWB.” 

Many of Warner’s directors have also 
been heard on the station, among them 
William Beaudine, Charles “Chuck” Reis- 
ner, J. Stuart Blackton, and Erie Kenton. 



New York Shows Disgust Star 

“And they censor motion pictures!” 

That was Evelyn Brent’s pertinent com- 
ment on the New York shows when she 
arrived home in Hollywood Sunday after 
several weeks vacation in Gotham. 

“I saw and heard things in reputable 
New York theatres which would bar any 
newspaper from the mails if reproduced in 
print,” she declared. “I saw women pranc- 
ing about the stage, making an exhibition 
of their nakedness, without a thread to 
cover them. 

“I didn’t sneak up an alley to see the 
sights of the slums. I didn’t seek out 
nasty shows. I loathe nastiness. I have 
lived my life in New York and London and 
Paris and think I am broad minded. But 
I was disgusted with what I saw in the 
shows that are most talked of in New 
York. The music was good, the scenery 
and the costumes were splendid works of 
art. The spectacles had been conceived 
by masters. 

“A nude woman may be pretty. But a 
naked one is disgusting. And the show 
girls in the Follies type of performance 
were naked. When they wore anything 
at all it was just to accentuate their naked- 
ness. 

“And they censor motion pictures in 
New York!” 




As GENERAL MANAGER OF KFWB, THE ONLY MOTION PICTURE BROADCASTING STUDIO, NoRMAN MANNING IS CREATING FOR 

Warner Brothers stars increased popularity through “personal appearances” on the air. 




19 2 5 



®i rector 



19 



Custom 



versus 



Costume 




By Bertram 
A. Holiday 



W HILE everyone with whom I have 
talked seems thoroughly satisfied 
that the Metro-Goldwyn-Maver 
production of Ben Hur is destined to prove 
the biggest cinematic sensation since Ouo 
Vadis and The Birth of a Nation, its ac- 
tual reception by the theatre-going public 
is likely to prove exceedingly interesting, 
and to the best of my knowledge no sure- 
fire method of predetermining what the 
reaction of that public to any production 
is likely to be has yet been evolved. 

However there is every reason to believe 
that Ben Hur will measure up to all ex- 
pectations and possibly even more. Cer- 
tainly it ought to if the amount of time, 
effort and money involved mean anything, 
not to mention the fact that it has taken 
two sets of directors, scenarists and prin- 
cipals. 



I doubt if there ever has been a pro- 
duction possessing greater box office angles, 
as those angles are commonly interpreted. 
It has a marvelous story as its foundation 
plus a play which ran successfully for more 
than a score of years, all of which means 
a wealth of ready-made publicity and ex- 
ploitation. 

While these are of value and play a part 
the importance of which hardly can be ques- 
tioned, there is one other factor that ap- 
peals to me as being of equal importance, 
dove-tailing with the others to certain ex- 
tent, yet of importance even without them. 
I refer to the psychological appeal in the 
story of Ben Hur. 

It is this appeal which discounts in ad- 
vance the fact that Ben Hur is and must 
of necessity be a costume play and costume 
plays are things which the American pro- 



ucer has learned to leave severely alone 
and which the American exhibitor has 
learned to his cost too frequently fail to 
bring results at the box office. 

The American public shies instinctively 
from the costume play. Ordinarily it 
doesn’t appeal to them, and if there is one 
thing that the American producer strives 
to do, it is to give the theatre-going public 
what the producer believes that public 
wants. 

All of which bears more or less directly 
on the opening paragraph of a letter I re- 
ceived recently from Budapest, Hungary, 
in which the writer, one Anthony Ehler 
says, 

“1 am the author of a film scenario. I 
am one who has sent in a scenario to sev- 
eral producers and whose scenario has been 
returned with regrets, saying that although 



20 



©i rector 



November 




Splendidly acted as is their portrayal of the customs of the period, 

THERE IS AN INEVITABLE STAGINESS ABOUT THIS SCENE BETWEEN NOVARRO AND 

Bushman in the M-G-M production of “Ben Hur.” 



the story is an interesting one they are not 
interested at the present in costume stories 
and that the public is tired of them. Will 
you look into this business for me?” 

I have looked into “this business’ for 
him, and, as expressed in the foregoing 
have found that the market for costume 
stories, as such, simply doesn’t exist; that 
there must be some powerful motivation 
back of such a story, some theme with 
world-wide appeal, before a period play 
will even be considered. 

I am not advancing this as a new dis- 
covery by any means. It is a matter of 
common knowledge, at least in the pro- 
ducing world. Costume pictures don’t 
seem to pay out. 

And yet there are so many people out- 
side of immediate contact with motion pic- 
ture activity who consider that the screen 
is peculiarly adapted to the depiction of 
stories of this type. All of which is essen- 
tially true, up to a certain point. The 
screen is ideally suited to the depiction of 
the romance of bye-gone ages and through 
its illusive qualities that romance may be 
made to live again. 

And there is the rub. 

I T is one thing to be held spell-bound by 
the graphic art of the novelist, to be 
swayed by the charm of his description and 
by the brilliance of his style and diction. 
One’s imagination keeping pace with the 
imagination of the author readily evolves 
from the word pictures on the printed page, 
mental pictures which visualize the char- 



acters, the settings and the action of the 
story. 

Such a story as Herr Ehler submits with 
his letter, a story to which he has given 
the title Oberon and which he states is 
founded on the folk-tale of Wieland, if 
told with all the skill of a great novelist 
would grip the imagination of the reader 
and would hold it in breathless interest 
to the very end. And from the word pic- 
tures woven by the author into the warp 
and woof of his story the reader’s imagina- 
tion evolves mental pictures in which the 
characters of the story come to life and 
move amid the settings so graphically des- 
cribed. 

But here is the interesting feature. Every 
reader creates his own mental picture, a 
picture inspired and dictated by something 
that has gone before, — by the capacity of 
his mind to reconstruct. Sometimes these 
pictures are sharply etched, sometimes, and 
I believe this to be more frequently the 
case, they are nebulous and sketchy, bare 
outlines which, while entirely sufficient to 
make the story seem real to the reader, 
would vanish as a puff of smoke were the 
reader to attempt to put down on paper 
the picture he sees in his mind. The de- 
tails just aren’t there. 

But while they last these pictures seem 
real. For instance, how often have you 
read a book which particularly appealed 
to you and a year or so later have picked 
up that book and in thumbing through the 
illustrations have searched in vain for some 
particular illustration you were positive 



was there. Why that picture was so clear- 
ly etched in your memory that you could 
have sworn that it had actually appeared 
in black and white in the pages of the 
book. And yet when you look for it, it 
isn’t there, and you come to the realization 
that it has only been a figment of your own 
imagination! Undoubtedly we have all 
had such experiences. 

All of which is parentheteic to the 
thought that we read a fascinating story of 
the dim remote ages and thoroughly enjoy 
it, we recreate in our mind’s eye the char- 
acters and settings of the story, but when 
it comes to actually reconstructing char- 
acters, scenes and action of such a story il- 
lusion disappears and reality enters. And 
cold reality too often brings disillusion- 
ment. 

This to my mind is one of the dominant 
factors mitigating against the so-called cos- 
tume play of any period. While the same 
story told with the art of the novelist is 
fascinating in the extreme and we find 
delicious enjoyment in reading the flights 
of fancy of Sir Rider Haggard, Edgar 
Rice Burroughs and H. G. Wells, when 
it come to translating that story to the 
screen illusion is lost and the reality which 
invests the depicting of the story on the 
screen is so utterly different from precon- 
ceived ideas that we are generally disap- 
pointed. 

There must be something deeper, some 
greater appeal to the interest of the spec- 
tator to offset the unreality that character- 
izes such productions. There must be 
some emotional appeal to which he makes 
instinctive response. Ben Hur presents 
such an appeal. 

This phase of the situation has been in- 
terestingly summed up in the suggestion 
offered by a New York advertising man 
■who took a flyer in motion picture adver- 
tising and then returned to his beloved 
New York and the more prosaic exploita- 
tion of the necessities of life, by referring 
to screen entertainment as being “predi- 
gested.” The product of imagination, 
screen stories leave so little to the imagina- 
tion when translated to the screen, that 
they in truth do become predigested. 

S HORTLY after receiving Herr Ehler’s 
manuscript and its accompanying letter 
I was talking with a printer who has de- 
voted his life to the study and application 
of expressing thoughts in terms of type 
faces. With the enthusiasm of an artist 
for his art he entered into an animated dis- 
cussion of the merits and interpretive val- 
ues of various type faces. 

“Type is the vehicle for thought,” he 
said, “Make your printed page easy to read. 
Set your message in the type face with 
which your readers are most familiar and 
they will read it quickly and easily. Set 
is in unfamiliar type and easy reading is 
retarded through the necessity for ‘trans- 
lating’ the type and puzzling out familiar 
words in unfamiliar dress.” 





1925 



©irector 



21 




While in the Warner Brothers production of “The Cave Man” Matt 
Moore packs a realistic punch that is most convincing and which is 

THOROUGHLY UNDERSTOOD BY THE PRESENT GENERATION. 



Give the public what it is in the habit of 
seeing. 

In that paraphrase of the old printer’s 
comment it seems to me is summed up the 
psychology of motion picture production, 
and is expressed at least one reason why the 
costume picture as such has so universally 
proved disappointing at the box office. 

Presenting a story of the Middle Ages 
on the screen with all its attendant quali- 
ties of unfamiliar costumes and unfamiliar 
settings is to my mind very much like 
setting a familiar nursery rhyme in old 
German type. The unfamiliarity of the 
type of itself would “stop” the average 
reader. The fact that the rhyme is ex- 
pressed in English, that the spelling of the 
words is just the same as one is accustomed 
to see, is entirely offset by the unfamiliarity 
of the “costume” worn by the familiar 
characters. It isn’t real. 

Such a production, for instance as Rom- 
ola, in which, despite the splendid work 
done by Lillian and Dorothy Gish, the 
careful characterizations and the infinite 
attention to detail, the unfamiliarity of 
characters, costumes and background des- 
troyed the element of reality and mitigated 
against the box office success of that pro- 
duction to a marked degree. 

On the other hand, indicative of “the 
exception that proves the rule” Ben Hur 
possesses all the attributes which enter into 
a successful box office picture and the mere 
fact that the story is laid in its entirety 
some 2000 years ago will in this instance 
have very little effect on the final result. 

And while this may sound paradoxial, 
I believe it may be easily explained. Des- 
pite the period in which it is laid, despite 
the fact that it is essentially a costume 
picture, Ben Hur possesses an appeal to 
the American public — to the world public 
in fact, — that transcends any inhibition 
against costume pictures. Ben Hur is real, 
not only because of its long success on the 
American stage, not only because of the 
tremendous popularity of General Lew 
Wallace’s book on which that play was 
based, but because in Ben Hur are sym- 
bolized religious history and religious teach- 
ings which are familiar to the entire 
Christian world. As such there is to Ben 
Hur as there was to Quo Vadis an intensity 
of appeal that is entirely apart from other 
factors which so universally enter into the 
equation. 

G OING back into “ancient history” 
for a bit, some thirteen years ago 
George Kleine brought over Quo Vadis an 
Italian-made feature production — the first 
super feature to be exhibited in this coun- 
try — and startled the cinematic world with 
the tremendous success that picture made 
as a box office attraction. 

Quo Vadis was an instanteous success 
throughout the country, partly because it 
was a novelty — a mammoth, spectacular 
production of unheard of pretentiousness 
for the films — but largely because it visu- 



alized a story with which the whole w orld 
was familiar and because it visualized a 
period of world and religious history known 
to every man an woman. 

Between Quo Vadis and Ben Hur there 
is a distinct parallel, and what Quo Vadis 
was in its day Ben Hur is very likely to 
become today. And yet it is interesting 
to note that every effort to revive Quo 
Vadis has been disastrous. 

Going back to that Quo Vadis period, an 
interesting illustration of the point estab- 
lished is found in the fact that following 
the success of that production other pro- 
ductions of similar nature were imported 
and in every instance proved a complete 
flop. 

With all the power of Bulwer Lytton’s 
literary classic back of it, with all the 
spectacular elements that such a subject 
afforded, The Last Days of Pompeii proved 
a box office failure. Similarly Julius Cea- 
sar, Spartacus at Rome and Anthony and 
Cleopatara failed utterly to measure up to 
the standards of box office success estab- 
lished by Quo Vadis. 

Marvelous as each production was, 
spectacular to a high degree splendidly 
done, each founded on a famous story or 
an episode in the history of the world with 
which all students are familiar, these pro- 
ductions lacked that seemingly intangible 
quality that made Quo Vadis a mighty suc- 
cess. The story each told, while fascinat- 
ing in the extreme, true to the period in 
which it was laid, lacked that vital ele- 
ment of direct individual interest which 



characterized Quo Vadis and which is to 
be expected in Ben Hur. 

Still turning back the leaves of memory 
I am impressed by the fact that in nearly 
every instance plays in which period set- 
tings have been involved, or even where 
the entire action has been laid in foreign 
settings with costumes peculiar to those 
settings, have proved unsatisfactory as box- 
office attractions. 

I have already referred to Romola as one 
instance. There have been a great many 
others. There have been, too, many in- 
stances where stories have been laid in 
foreign settings with foreign costuming 
predominate, but leavened by the introduc- 
tion of “home-folk” in familiar garb. For 
instance there was Graustark as played by 
Bushman and Bayne and the more recent 
Talmadge version. The costume element 
found relief in the fact that the interest 
of the spectator was focused on an Amer- 
ican hero. 

The current production of The Merry 
Widow is another case in point. Not only 
is there the relief afforded by the presence 
of the troupe of American players, but 
there is a subtle touch of World War in- 
fluence and modernism in military accoutre- 
ment, contrasting with the old world cos- 
tumes. The result is an extremely color- 
ful production in which there is sufficient 
realism as interpreted by the American au- 
dience to balance the unfamiliar settings 
and create an atmosphere of charm and 
interest for the whole. Add to that the 
(Continued on Page 50) 






22 



f MOTION Ml 1 mi 

director 



November 



Does the Public IV ant 

New Stories 

An Interview with ALBERT LeVINO —by Jimmie Starr 



AS a new idea any sex appeal? 

That is not quite the status of our 
story, yet it is a good opening if 
nothing more. 

Just why one should pick upon such a 
busy personage as Albert Shelby LeVino, 
I don’t know, but according to this, I did. 

And believe me he was the right guy. 
He more than hit the nail on the head — 
he socked it. If there was ever one who 
brought up the villainous heat of the 
lower regions into an agrument, which is 
all ready white hot with the various ver- 
sions of pin-headed producers, then — well 
Battling LeVino is ready for all comeis. 

Tune in and listen to some high-pow- 
ered broadcasting of truth, the whole truth 
and nothing but the truth. 

Word has been gaily circulating around 
our fair Cinema City that the latest wail 
(it is that) of the many production heads 
of the motion picture industry is the lack 
of ‘ ‘new” stories. 

“Perhaps,” says scenarist Albert, “they 
are in a conspiracy to keep artistic produc- 
ers — if any — and high-minded studio exe- 
cutives — if any again — from obtaining new 
stories.” 

Which isn’t such a bad crack, come to 
think of it. 

Just at present about ninety per cent of 
the studios are asking for new stories. 
Maybe this is ignorance — because there 
isn’t a new story under the sun that is 
commercially sound. 

“A short time ago,” breaks in LeVino 
again, “my very good friend — and at that 
time employer — Harry Rapf, blurted out 
that the industry really needed ‘not new 
faces, but new brains’, which included only 
writers and directors. 

“ ‘Well, Harry’, 1 asked him, ‘don’t you 
think you might also include some new 
brains as production heads?’ ” 

Harry Rapf chuckled good-naturedly, 
which was most natural for a man in that 
position, and he nodded his head in Le- 
Vino’s favor of suggestion. 

Many of these so-called “wise ones” of 
the movies seemingly have lost their knack 
of guessing just what the public wants. 
That is easy to analyze. 

“It’s the same old story, over and over 



again,” yells Le Vino at the top of his 
voice. “A love story — with that much be- 
damned happy ending.” 

Those who don’t agree can stop here. 
This is fair warning — if you go farther, 
you are apt to get yourself into a hot and 
heavy argument. Watch your step ! 

\T THAT all competent directors and 
VV writers know — at least we hope 
they know that,” says LeVino, “but what 
some producers and critics seemingly do 
not know — is that the Anglo-Saxon amuse- 
ment-supporting public wants, or ever has 
wanted, is the same story over and over 
again.” 

Perhaps it is the fact that we all are 
producing the same story which will awak- 
en in the public a desire for something 
else. But nothing in the literary or dra- 
matic scope of the English speaking coun- 
tries justified such an assumption. 

By now you are probably doubting that 
we are telling the same old story on the 
screen and always have been telling it. Let 
us permit LeVino again to have the floor: 

“The first thing we do is create a girl 
or woman character and present her so 
that the audience will like her. Then we 
construct her boy or man counterpart and 
present him so that the audience will like 
him. Now we bring the heroine and the 
hero together — and make them like each 
other. Simple, isn’t it? 

“H ere comes the dirty work. Even a 
scenario writer is a villain at heart and 
with a pen. Just at the moment when 
said heroine and hero would like to kiss 
and start to live happily ever after in spite 
of the whole cock-eyed world (apologies 
to Ben Turpin), the weaver of the yarn 
steps boldly forth and slaps in the conflict 
element. Still simple, isn’t it? 

“This new move separates the happy pair 
both mentally and physically. From then 
on it is a battle — a mighty one for the 
writer — to keep the heroic characters from 
getting together again in peace, amity and 
Hollywood. Here is the catch: The very 
instant the conflict element is defeated, 
the adult audience reaches for its collective 
hat and grab the children by the arm. 
There is only one thing to do — shove in 
‘The End’ title and call it a day.” 



N OW that LeVino has succeeded in 
making himself and ideas clear, let us 
chatter on with other stuff. 

Sometimes the old formula — and it is 
that — is varied, seemingly by presenting the 
heroine and hero as a married couple. This 
method, some times, according to the 
scenario writer’s ability, may enhance the 
conflict element. Probably a deeper, more 
sincere thought is carried out. 

The age-old gag is used and maintained 
so as to part the husband and wife — and 
keep them apart until time for the fade 
out. 

It all narrows down to this: The only 
variation in the presentation of the form- 
ula lies in the treatment. There have been 
countless ways and means contrived by the 
most subtle minds of the world, which, 
after all, seems to be the only thing we 
are seeking. 

We are not after new stories, but forever 
seeking and endeavoring to discover some 
newer method of presenting the old idea, 
which is my idea of being truly original. 
To be a successful film w r riter you have to 
be fitted and able to “top” the newest gag, 
and ye gods, there is a new one born every 
minute. 

Once again LeVino hops up and takes 
the floor: 

“I have a beautiful, large-type copy of 
the Gesta Rornanorum, the book from 
which William Shakespeare is said to have 
secured seventeen of his thirty-four (or is 
it thirty-five?) plots. I have read the book 
often and most diligently, but I can not 
get even one plot from those old monks’ 
tales that will pass any studio executive. 
Which is only another proof, and quite an 
unnecessary one, that Bill Shakespeare was 
and still is, a better craftsman than I am.” 
In speaking of the Gesta Rornanorum in 
which are the seventeen plays, one finds 
that Shakespeare was really guilty of an 
awful lapse. He was often praised for 
seventeen different plots, but there is an- 
other catch. Those seventeen stories, which 
include all the plays ending happily, are 
absolutely identical in plot formula — just 
as all our really successful screen stories, 
are. 




1925 



23 



y X MOTION Wl Tl/RC 

director 




Photo by 
Wax man 



King 

Vidor 



The Man 
on the 
Cover 



The Story of 
A Little Parade 
When the Camera 
Jammed and a 
Big Parade 
When It Didn’t. 



S OME men achieve success, fame and 
distinction when Fate places Golden 
Opportunity in their path and when, 
with the instincts of a football player, they 
pick it up and race down the field to the 
goal. 

Some men achieve success solely through 
their grim, dogged persistency and their 
indomitable resolve to accomplish the pur- 
pose for which they set out. 

Such a man is King Vidor, whose por- 
trait appears on the cover and whose most 
recent film triumph, The Big Parade, is 
already on the tongue of the professional 
world. King Vidor has “arrived” because 
he has never for one moment forgotten 
the objective which he set as his goal, be- 



cause he has allowed no opportunity pass 
that might further his purpose and because 
when no opportunity presented he went 
out and made one. 

When the films and King Vidor were 
both young there was born within him an 
ambition to become a dominant figure in 
the motion picture world. It is doubtful 
whether at that time he concretely visual- 
ized himself as a director. Probably he 
did not. But in him is the creative in- 
stinct — the instinct which is the heritage 
of every boy but which in so many in- 
stances becomes atrophied with adolescence 
and manhood and is completely subjugated 
by the responsibilities of life and the bur- 
den of making a living. Combine in one 



individual creativeness, persistency and 
ambition, and Destiny will read the result 
in terms of success. 

When King Vidor is asked about his 
early career in the movies he becomes re- 
trospective and a twinkle comes into his 
eye as he tells of that day not so many 
years ago when, as a boy in Houston, 
Texas, he wagered $5, and offered to sell 
his bicycle if necessary to meet the wager, 
on the mechanics of motion pictures. It is 
a story that he delights in telling and in 
that incident he believes he received his 
first genuine inspiration to make the mov- 
ies his life-work. 

The films were still comparatively new 
in those days and the story opens with 



24 



November 



t_ X # MOTION W1UW 

director 



two youngsters standing on the sidewalk 
in front of a small theatre, blinking in 
the bright Texas sunlight and discussing 
the motion picture paraphrase of “what 
makes the wheels go ’round.” 

“The pictures sure moved,” said one of 
the boys, “but I bet that they were justed 
painted on.” 

“No, I think that they were photo- 
graphed with some kind 
of a earner,” replied the 
other. 

“What’s your ‘bet’?” 

“I’ll bet you $5, even 
if I have to sell my bi- 
cycle to pay you,” King 
Vidor returned, “but I 
won’t have to because I 
know I am right.” 

The boys carried 
their dispute before the 
mayor of the town and 
it was explained to them 
that moving pictures 
were indeed photo- 
graphed by a kind of a 
camera. After that 
nothing mattered to 
King Vidor but this 
fascinating business of 
moving pictures. He 
had to know more about 
them. 

The obvious place to 
turn was to the theatre 
where they were shown 
and he succeeded in get- 
ting a job at the Ex- 
celsior theatre in Hous- 
ton, his first job in the 
movies. He took in 
tickets and acted as ush- 
er and because he work- 
ed faithfully and per- 
sistently for ten hours 
a day, he was paid the 
munificent salary of 
$2.50 every week. 

At that time a feature picture was a 
whole two reels in length and King Vidor 
has the pleasure of seeing it twenty-four 
times a day. The feature picture that 
marked his entrance into the film world 
as doorman and usher at the Excelsior 
theatre was called Ben Hur and he thought 
it was a pretty good show. But after he 
had watched the brick tumble down from 
the wall a number of times he decided 
that it might have been better, and gradu- 
ally there was born in him the ambition 
to make a better picture. 

Now, that ambition to write a better 
story or make a better picture has started 
many a man in whom is the creative in- 
stinct upon the road that leads to success. 

Fired with this new ambition he started 
in to learn all that he could learn. He 
had the operator — they were called opera- 
tors and not projectionists in those days — 
explain to him all the intricacies of the 



projection machine. While his patrons 
gropingly found seats for themselves in the 
dark, King Vidor diligently studied the 
technique of the silent drama, counting 
the number of scenes and analyzing the 
modus operandl. 

Then he began to write scenarios and 
when he had fifteen or twenty good ones 
he sent them away to various moving pic- 



ture organizations. They must have been 
good ones, for they never came back. In 
fact he never heard of them again. 

Came a day when there was to be a 
parade of soldiers in the town and an ad- 
vertisement appeared in the paper asking 
for someone to make moving pictures of the 
parade for a news reel. He promptly got 
the job, and then remembered that he didn’t 
have a camera. 

But that was soon solved. There was 
a movie camera in the town owned by a 
chauffeur with whom he promptly entered 
into business arrangements, agreeing to split 
the profits, if any. 

Things were moving smoothly until the 
chauffeur learned that he had to drive in 
the parade and if the picture were to be 
taken King Vidor would have to turn the 
crank himself. This was something dif- 
ferent again, but here is where the per- 
sistency of the man becomes evident. Like 
most heroes of fact or fiction he was not to 



be daunted and he practiced that night 
operating the camera without film. The 
next morning, at least three hours before 
the parade was to start, he was stationed 
on the roof of the Odd Fellows Hall with 
his camera trained on the street down 
which the soldiers were to march. 

At last the procession came into sight. 
The drum major in all his glory whirled 
his baton just in the 
range of the lens and 
King Vidor began to 
crank. There was a 
crumpling sound inside 
the mysterious box. The 
handle jammed. The 
boy ran frantically with 
his camera into a dark 
corridor and with excit- 
ed fingers straightened 
out the buckled film. 
But when he rushed 
back to the roof, the 
parade had passed. 

Thus ended the first 
episode, but like many 
episodes it proved but 
the beginning of anoth- 
er. He and the chauf- 
feur organized a com- 
pany. Vidor wrote the 
story, played the leading 
role and, with the help 
o f different colored 
beards, played other 
characters as well. 

A trip to New York 
followed and his intro- 
duction to that myster- 
ious procedure termed 
Distribution. 

After New York, 
Texas lost its appeal as 
a moving picture locale. 
Besides Hollywood was 
then becoming the 
center of the film 
wold. And so to Holly- 
wood he came. 

For a few years he did a little bit of 
everything: acting, writing, assisting as di- 
rector and building sets. Every little 
while he insisted that he could direct pic- 
tures and finally was given an opportunity 
to make a kid comedy. It was a good one 
and he made nine more. But comedies 
didn’t satisfy his ambition. He wanted to 
create something more real, something more 
tangible, something more lasting. And so 
he quit making comedies. 

But getting a chance to direct a real 
feature presented many difficulties and a 
few weeks later he was sitting on the extra 
bench of a casting office. Tiring of the 
interminable waiting his imagination sought 
something to occupy itself with, he began 
evolving in his mind the plot of a feature 
production. It was then that he conceived 
the big idea, and sitting on the extra bench 
he worked out the detailed plot of The 

(Continued on Page 64) 



44 TV /T EN in squads, in platoons, in regiments . . . 

\\ /I toiling through the sticky mud . . . falling 
J^Y X out bv the roadside to bandage blistered feet, 
or to buy food from sad faced villagers, onlv 
again to take up the interminable drive to the front. And 
with the men the guns, big guns, medium-sized guns, little 
guns . . . guns in column and guns in convoy . . . guns 
behind prespiring horses and snorting tractors . . . their 
muzzles lurching, dipping, careening through the gray fog 
like wave-tossed dories on a stormy sea . . . shiny guns, 
rusty guns; dripping guns, guns stuck in the mud and sur- 
rounded by swearing, sweating men, tugging, pulling, 
straining in that laborious, ominous purposeful crowding 
on and on in The Big Parade to the front. 

For the first time a director has caught and trans- 
planted to celluloid, both the immensity of the World War 
and the underlying spirit of the American Expeditionary 
Force. In the foregoing lines one overseas veteran tells of 
his impressions of The Big Parade. On the opposite page 
Robert M. Finch, a man who was there, tells his impres- 
sions of this Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production in which 
King Vidor has created the supreme achievement of a 
brilliant directorial career. In his first attempt at motion 
pictures, King Vidor’s camera jammed when shooting a 
small-town parade, but when The Big Parade came along 
the camera didn’t jam and King Vidor has given to the 
world what is considered as the truest picture of the World 
War that has been filmed. 



25 



1925 



fc ~\ MOTION Plt TLTtU 

director 




An Overseas Veterans 



Tom O’Brien, John Gilbert and Karl Dane, as the “three musketeers” in “The Big Parade” 



™ E Big Parade 

By Robert M. Finch 



’EST LA GUERRE. 

Despite the idiomatic significance 
which attaches to that phrase so 
commonly on the tongue of the Frenchman 
during the World War, its broad interpre- 
tation sums up so completely my impres- 
sions of The Bit/ Parade that I sat back in 
my seat during an advance showing of this 
really worth-while production of war-time 
France with but the one thought: 

It is the war! 

In every sense of the word, "It is the 
war!” — a realistic, vivid portrayal of war- 
time France and the A.E.F. that brings 
back a flood of memories and revives as 
has no other screen production that I have 



seen anywhere those days of the “big push.” 

The Big Parade to me is not just a war 
picture. It is in all reality, a picture of 
the world war. 

Never have I seen the spirit of those 
war days caught and translated to either 
printed page or silver sheet with such 
fidelity, such accuracy of detail, such rem- 
iniscent touches of those little things that 
remain so vividly in the mind of every 
overseas veteran. Surely author, director 
and cast must have been there. It doesn’t 
seem possible that realism could have been 
obtained otherwise! 

The Biff Parade is to me a dynamic, 
vital, gripping presentation of the war it- 



self — of the Great Experience. For the 
first time anywhere it brings the cataclysm 
of the age to the inner consciousness of all 
who view it, in all its awful majesty, its 
ruthless dominance of everything and the 
pitiful insignificance of the human atom 
engulfed in its tremendous eruption. 

There have been numerous war pictures 
and war stories in which isolated fragments 
have been vividly reproduced, but in most 
of these the vital element of realism seemed 
to be lacking. The soldiers depicted on the 
screen seemed more like automatons — 
mere puppets in the hands of the director 
— than like men who had been there, who 
(Continued on Page 28) 




a£S> - 




% 



Photo by Ruth Harriet Louise 

Renee yddoree 

“Mimi” of war-time 
France, Renee Adoree has, in The Big Parade , 
an exceptional opportunity to give to the screen 
the best work of her screen career, an opportu- 
nity that she has fully lived up to. She cer- 



tainly knows her France and in The Big Parade 
she has done herself and King Vidor proud. As 
the true-hearted, bubbling “Madelon” of the 
villages, she astonishes with her impetuousness 
and enthralls with her charming presentation of 
that sublime faith that gives all and asks, Oh! 
so little in return. 




Photo by Ruth Harriet Louise 

Tnhn CiHhprt 0i the man y roles in 

jUfJ/l vjWi/c / £ which he has captivated 

the hearts of the theatre- 
going public, John Gilbert’s portrayal of Jim 
Apperson in King Vidor’s production, The Big 
Parade, is undoubtedly his best. Dumped from 
the mansions of the avenues into the dirt and 
the grime of war-time France, many a scion of 



the aristocracy discovered himself in the inferno 
of The Front where Death stalked ever near. 
Typifying the flower of American manhood who 
went into the war through circumstances, his 
delineation of the boy who learned to forget 
himself and become a real soldier in that ghastly 
hell of No Man’s Land will not soon be for- 
gotten. 



28 



November 



©irector 




. . . The Boy crowded into the war . . . The Girl he left behind 
him. The Rookie cantonment — it all had been done before and I 
set myself to see “just another war picture.” 

Came a long shot down a sloping hill with shielding poplars 
lining the macadam road, a road that glistened and shone in the 
drizzling rain, while down the road rocked seemingly endless 
columns of marching troops. 

Indifference fell from me like an impatiently discarded mantle. 

This was France itself — the road from Dombasle to Rendezvous 
du Chasse over which The Big Parade swept in 1917. 

Memories flooded over me and I was back in France. As the 
long shot faded into a close-up of weary, set faces plodding on and 
on in The Big Parade it was the faces of my war-time buddies that 
1 saw on the screen. 

The scene changed. A typical French village flashed 
before me and I laughed aloud in delicious reminiscence as 
the men fell out around a manure pile. I could smell the 
musty straw in the loft and the burned grease from the 
ponirne de terre frie. I pictured Laurence Stallings the 
author, among the men of that platoon. Fie surely must 
been there ! 

Then the “Three Musketeers!” What platoon 
in the A.E.F. did not have them ! The arrogant 
corporal, the Swede iron-moulder and the pampered 
scion of wealth — all engulfed in the maelstrom of 
The Big Parade — buddies by chance, not by choice. 
In the soldier’s retrospect, irresistibly real and funny 
now — not so funny then ! 

Expectantly I waited for the introduction of the 
“Madelon,” the laughing, self-confident madamoiselle 
of all France, without whom no picture of the war 
would be complete. Wistfully, I found myself hoping 
that she would be real. 

Then I saw her, standing in the gate. 
The little smiling “Mimi” of the cross- 
roads village whom every soldier in France 
knew. The same semi-sophisticated bold- 
ness, the same little mannerisms. 



From the alleys and barrooms they came and were caught in the swirl 
of “The Big Parade.” Tom O’Brien portrays a difficult role as one of 
the “Three Musketeers” in an admirable way. Every overseas veteran 
KNEW HIS COUNTERPART IN FRANCE. In “The BlG P.ARADE” O’BrIEN APPEARS 
as an East Side Bartender drafted into the war. His instincts of self-pres- 
ervation MADE HIM A CORPORAL. HlS NATURAL ARROGANCE OVERCAME HIS DIS- 
CRETION AND HE WAS REDUCED TO A PRIVATE. 



had plodded weary hours through drizzling 
rain and sticky mud, who had smelled a 
shrapnel burst and had had their ears deaf- 
ened by the pounding of the big guns at 
the front. 

But in The Biff Parade are found not 
only the individual touches which are still 
fresh in the memories of overseas veterans, 
but underlying the whole picture is that 
dominant note which was so evident all 
through the American doughboy’s experi- 
ences “Over there,” — the ceaseless inter- 
minable push to the front ; the endless 
stream of olive-drab figures forging on and 
on and on in The Big Parade. 

It required no conscious flight of imagi- 
nation to transport me back to those days in 
Belgium and the Argonne. Even while 
my attention was riveted on the screen, in 
imagination’s eye was the picture that every 
veteran of the A.E.F. will have a pic- 

ture of overcast clouds and drizzling rain 
and through the rain a seemingly endless 
stream of men and guns. 



And over it all the subdued, insistent, 
sullen rumble of the artillery in that vague 
distance to the front, like the bass notes 
of some colossal organ or the vibrant, domi- 
nating pulsing tom-tom of African war 
drums. Day by day growing ever louder, 
more insistent, more compelling as the 
weary columns struggled on. At night 
more weird as across the distant horizon 
flickered a fitful glare in accompaniment 
to the eternal reverberation. 

What overseas man can ever forget it? 

F RANKLY, I confess that, having been 
an infinitesimal atom in the mighty en- 
semble of war machinery that Marshal 
Foch poured north to crush the Hun, it 
was with some skepticism that I dropped 
into a seat at Grauman’s Egyptian to wit- 
ness an advance showing of The Biff Pa- 
rade. 

Somewhat indifferently 1 followed the 
trend of the early sequences. Before me 
on the silver sheet flashed the usual prelude 



Renee Adoree, as Melisande, is as 
Frenchy as her name and one needs no 
exercise of imagination to fit her into both 
role and atmosphere. She just belongs. 
She is real. Back went my recollection 
to Erize la Petite, or was it at Montigny 
du Rue that I knew her counterpart? 

Now John Gilbert, as Jim Apperson, 
steps out of the The Big Parade and reg- 
isters as an individual. He meets Meli- 
sande and gets busy with his French dic- 
tionary. I venture that this clever bit of 
pantomime will be as refreshingly remini- 
scent to every veteran who sees The Biff 
Parade as it was to me. 

Then the scene where Melisande intro- 
duces her soldier-wooer to her family and 
friends . . . The stilted welcome . . . The 
adulation of the French for their heroes 
as they read their letters from the front 
. . . Their fervid and dramatic patriotism. 
It is all there and will bring back memo- 
ries to many through its adroit realism. 

The arrival of the mail . . . Slim’s disap- 
pointment at not receiving a letter, a quick- 
ened bit of artistry . . . The corporal kicks 
the wrong man and loses his stripes . . . 
Slim gets the promotion. As you see it de- 
picted on the screen, so it was done in 
France, as I am sure every overseas veteran 
will agree. 





1925 

M oving up! 

The confusion of assembly and en- 
trainment is admirably portrayed . . . 

The lover’s parting, an impassioned scene 
so typical of the French who realized the 
ominous possibilities of the last march in 
The Big Parade from which so many dear 
to them had failed to return. 

The front at last. 

The clumsy deployment when for the 
first time they faced the Great Unknown, 
half-dazed by the appalling cannonade of 
the covering barrage . . . Their baptisme 
de feu, as the French so naively phrased 
it . . . The awkward stilted advance with 
lagging feet. . . . The crushing clutch on 
the rifle stocks . . . Bayonets fixed . . . The 
seeming indifference to companions as the 
air rains steel. No flights of imagination 
are necessary to sense that the man who 
engineered these scenes had been there him- 
self. 

Artillery laying down the barrage . . . 
The dancing 75’s with their perspiring 
crews . . . The 155 howitzers and rifles 
splashing the mud as they buck back on 
their trails in recoil . . . One could almost 
hear the metallic ring of the contracting 
tubes and smell the acrid back flare from 
the muzzles. 

The sputtering of the German machine 
guns . . . Even sensed through the eye 
alone one seems to hear subsconsciously 
their vibratory rat-tat-tat as they belch 
their deadly streams of lead. 

Hand grenades, and the Heinies sur- 
rendering before the grenades are heaved 
. . . With eyes transfixed before them, the 
men in the first wave stumbling on, bayo- 
nets at the ready, seemingly oblivious to 
the upraised arms of the surrendering Ger- 
mans. To my mind this is one of the 
really great hits of the picture in its con- 
ception. Only the seasoned veteran would 
realize that prisoners are to be taken by 
the second wave and the moppers up. 



N O man’s land, with its eerie lights . . . 

The “Th ree Musketeers” in a shell 
hole . . . Jim’s rebellion at the awfulness 
of it . . . Bull’s dazed attitude . . . Jim’s 
crude indifference to the situation. A re- 
markable portrayal of the manner in which 
different men stood up under fire. 

Then the call to go to the front . . Slim’s 
clever ruse to gain the opportunity . . . 
Jim’s high strung spirit and his hysterical 
anxiety to find his buddy. Here enters 
what was to me one of the most vividly 
realistic episodes of the picture. 

Jim has the last German, desperately 
wounded, completely at his mercy. Goad- 
ed to uncontrollable fury by the fate of 
Slim out there in the dark, Jim sees red. 
Here is the enemy delivered into his hands. 
Slim is out there, wounded, perhaps dead. 
Somebody must pay. He raises his arm 
to strike but is arrested by the agony in 
the Hun’s face. Sanity comes back to him 
and, softened by pity, he finds himself 



©irector 



They were all Americans under the skin. As the big clumsy Swede 

IRON MOLDER, K.ARL DANE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MOST OF THE LAUGHS IN “The 

Big Parade.” Phlegmatic, slow thinking, exhilaratingly funny, Slim, 

THE CORPORAL WHO WENT TO HIS DEATH WITH A FRESH CUD OF TOBACCO IN 
HIS CHEEK, IS ONE OF THE CLEVEREST CHARACTERIZATIONS ON THE SCREEN. 



handing his enemy his last cigaret. A 
picture not soon forgotten. 

I once saw a corporal under very similar 
circumstances, mortally wounded and fren- 
zied with pain, seize a rifle and bayonet 
a defenseless German prisoner, only to 
throw himself on the ground weeping hy- 
sterically with genuine grief when he real- 
ized what an awful thing he had done. 

It is such poignant, vivid episodes as this, 
realistically done, presenting at the same 
time the actual horrors of way and its truly 
human side, that register so compelling on 
the consciousness of the overseas soldier 
who sees The Big Parade. 

Never before has the intense drama of 
life and death in the Great Experience been 
so powerfully reproduced in its intimate, 
human quality. Never before have the 
humorous aspects and ironical absurdities in 
the routine life of soldier on foreign soil 



been presented with such delicious drollery. 
Never before has the consuming ardor of 
patriotism in the French that makes the 
chanting of “The Marsellaise” a religion 
with them been so superbly exemplified. 

So much for the picture as an epic of 
the Great Conflict. 

I frankly believe that no overseas soldier 
can view The Big Parade without being 
carried back to those drab days in France 
and without being thrilled as I was thrilled 
by its masterful portrayal of The Great 
Experience. I am confident that it stands 
the inspection of its severest critics — the 
men whose fortitude it extolls. 

Of course some of the scenes depicted 
are ugly and unrefined in spots. The World 
War was no afternoon soiree. If it all 
were pretty to look at it would not be war. 

To me The Big Parade is a dynamic, 
(Continued on Page 59) 



ITN , MOTTO*. Ml U«l 

- >(l director November 

Th 6 N IGHT B RIDE T 



Synopsis of Preceding Chapters 

W HEN Cynthia Stockton, motoring home 
from the country club, observed that the 
Ogre's castle, which had been long va- 
cant, was tenanted, her curiosity was aroused. 

She soon learned that young Stanley War- 
rington, Jr., owner of the Warrington fleet of 
steamships, had purchased the place. Stanley 
hated anything that pertained to the sea and 
was — according to his friends, a bug on writ- 
ing. He also had suffered from a disastrous 
love affair and with his man Biggies, a gruff 
old one-legged ex sea captain who had been 
given charge of Stanley since he was a boy — 
the young man went into retirement, refusing 
to meet his neighbors and treating everyone 
with scant courtesy. 

This piqued Cynthia who was used to adu- 
lation and admiration from the male members 
of the exclusive colony in which she lived. 
Her friendly advances repulsed, she became 
angry and accepted Addison Walsh, a wealthy 
banker, much older than she, who had become 
her father's creditor for huge sums advanced 
the Stockton factories. 

Mrs. Stockton — whose lavish expenditures 
had made her a social leader — sponsored this 
match and was delighted when the ring was 
finally placed on Cynthia’s finger. 

Meanwhile, Stanley bought the local news- 
paper as an outlet for his penchant for writ- 
ing — and started in to expose Walsh's nefari- 
ous financial schemes which made the two 
men bitter enemies. 

But through it all, the call of youth kept 
this young woman hater in Cynthia's mind, al- 
though she had given him up as a bad job 
and hated him. She slyly sent him an invi- 
tation to her birthday fete given at night on 
the Stockton lawn on a lavish scale — and 
caught the young man hovering in the shad- 
ows, looking on. It thrilled her, for his pres- 
ence proved the potency of her charms and 
she knew she had secretly penetrated his armor 
of sex hatred. 

Then came a disagreeable clash between 
Walsh and Stanley — once, over his dog which 
had nearly caused an accident to the Walsh 
car — and again, over his open articles of con- 
demnation in his newspaper. These two meet- 
ings had been in Stanley’s favor and convinced 
Cynthia that she was affianced to an elderly, 
choleric man with a mean tongue and a vile 
disposition. 

To add to her discomfort — she knew Stanley 
condemned her with every look for what 
seemed to all appearances the sale of herself 
to the banker to save the Stockton fortune. 

Novi go on viith the story. 

Fifth Installment 

T HE Poodle Dog Inn was a notorious 
place. Nestling in a curve just off 
the highway about twelve miles out 
of town, this ancient tavern had been con- 
verted by one Louis Henri — once maitre 
d’hotel of a well-known hostelry — into a 
modern roadhouse. 

The quality of Louis’ food was worth 
the prices charged. The average respec- 
table man shunned the Poodle Dog for 
sundry reasons. But young men of wealth, 
and married men whose wives were away, 



By Frederic Chapin 

found the service and seclusion to their 
liking. 

Out of nowhere, Louis managed to con- 
jure famous brands of liquors and wines 
of rare vintage. 

I hose whom he knew, he trusted and 
served. Louis knew Addison Walsh by 
virtue of his past patronage, and a large 
room upstairs was already prepared for 
that worthy gentleman’s bachelor dinner. 
It was to be his parting shot at the high 
life — a last embrace, as it were — of the 
Goddess of Frolic, before entering the 
sedate portals of marital life. 

For the past year, AValsh had shunned 
the primrose path. But the urge of reck- 
less abandon in his salacious soul, called 
for one last fling — a rip-snorting revel — 
one more of the good old times when jazz- 
crazed men and women could whoop ’er 
up into a Bacchanalian orgy. 

Walsh, immaculate in evening dress, 
was the first to arrive. He surveyed the 
appointments of the table with satisfaction. 
Casting his gastronomical eye down the 
menu, he admitted it to show promise of 
being a feast fit for Epicurus himself. 

The dapper little Frenchman stood by 
awaiting the verdict. 

“Excellent, Louis,” said Walsh approv- 
ingly. 

Louis bowed stiffly, his body bending 
like a hinge. 

“You’re sure there is no danger of any- 
one disturbing us?” Walsh asked. 

“Non — non — Monsieur,” Louis assured 
him. “Ze doors are locked, ze shuttaires 
are closed, ze lights are out and ze place, 
she belong to you.” 

The portly host pulled out an expensive 
perfecto, Louis supplied the light and hur- 
ried away to turn the bottles in the cool- 
ers; while Walsh drew in the fragrant 
smoke and rocked back and forth on his 
patent leathers in complete accord with 
the world. 

His guests had been chosen with care. 
No outsiders would ever know what trans- 
pired there that night. 

But a benign Providence works in mys- 
terious ways. 

It so happened — that very day, the ad- 
vance agent of a girl show . . . one of 
those cheap musical melanges, that depends 
upon the scanty attire of its chorus for its 
drawing power, dropped into the office of 
the Daily Eagle. They were due to play 
in Sterling the following night. 

Bill Dobbins, alone in the office at the 
time, attended to his wants. The agent, 



always glad when his onerous duties were 
over, rolled one of his own and leaned 
back in his chair. Casually he picked up 
a copy of the paper and the bond article 
caught his eye. 

“Say!” he exclaimed, with more than 
passing interest. “This Walsh feller must 
be some pun’kins around these diggings, 
ain’t he?” 

“About as important as a pumpkin — or a 
squash,” replied Bill. 

“He must have a bankroll.” 

“He sure has.” 

“He’s the guy that bought our show 
for tonight.” 

“Bought it?” Bill repeated, pricking up 
his ears. 

“That’s what I said — bought it — for one 
performance. We were due to give a show 
in Milo tonight, when this bird blows in 
and writes a check for the amount of the 
receipts.” 

Bill pondered. 

“Wonder what little Addy did that for,” 
he said musingly. 

The agent smiled knowingly and hitched 
his chair up closer. 

“Keep this under your hat,” he whis- 
pered confidentially. “There’s going to be 
a wild party tonight — at the Poodle Dog 
— Walsh’s bachelor dinner. His last leap 
into the realm of wine, woman and jazz. 
The song stuff is out. Our twelve beauti- 
ful queens of burlesque are going to be 
there — that’s why he had to pay for the 
whole show. And after the sixth cocktail, 
it takes six to get them started if they 
don’t cut loose and rip the chandeliers off 
the walls, then I ain’t never seen them in 
action.” 

Bill surveyed the speaker akin to affec- 
tion. A holy joy flooded his soul. He 
wanted to rise up and ease himself in one 
unearthly whoop. Instead, he reached into 
his desk for a box, and skidded it over to- 
wards the agent. 

“Have a cigar,” he said nonchalantly. 
“Take a couple — a fist full. They’re good, 
we smoke ’em ourselves.” 

The surprised man took his quota and 
soon left the office. Bill grabbed up the 
’phone and conversed with Stanley. His 
“Uh huh,” — “You bet” — “Sure thing” — 
and “Leave it to me”, seemed to punctuate 
certain terse commands from the other end 
of the wire. 

That was why Bill Dobbins was seen 
to park his motor cycle near the Poodle 
Dog at exactly nine thirty that same night. 



192 5 



31 




©irector 



Several limousines were lined up in the 
carriage shed while the chauffeurs, by the 
aid of a flash light, indulged in a game of 
crap. 

The faint sound of a phonograph, ming- 
ling with the shrill laughter of feminine 
voices, floated from the darkened tavern, 
and Bill knew the jamboree was on. 

It was no trick to shin up a post to the 
upper balcony, where a tell-tale light 
through a slit between the lowered curtain 
and the frame of the window, gave promise 
of a glimpse inside. 

Bill parked himself comfortably, glued 
his eyes to the window, and found him- 
self the happy owner of a ringside seat 
for the show. 

The party had reached the stage of a 
lewd and licentious riot. The twelve 
queens of grease-paint were making the 
most of their sudden plunge into an un- 
limited supply of pre-war hootch. Walsh, 
maudlin and drooling in his drunken joy, 
chased the scantilly attired coryphees hither 
and yon. 

The tipsy period had passed, all were 
just plain drunk. Then a game started 
where the loser forfeited some portion of 
their wearing apparel. 

“Looks like something is going to come 
off” muttered Bill, glancing 
at his wrist watch. He would 
have to hustle to get the story 
ready for the morning paper, 
however, he had seen 
enough. 

He had a tale that would 
melt the type. 

Stanley was waiting for 
him in the office. Bill pro- 
ceeded to give him a lucid ac- 
count of the dinner party. 

When the young man had 
finished, Warrington, Jr., 
wheeled around, thought a 
minute and started his yarn 
with a string of alliterations, 
that would have brought joy 
to the heart of a circus press 
agent. 

As he paused to light his 
pipe, Bill glanced over his 
shoulder and read the head- 
lines. 

“Where will you have the 
remains sent?” he asked. 

Stanley gave a grunt, 
punched viciously at the ma- 
chine, gathering speed as he 
swung into his stride — and 
the tale was in the telling. 

T H E morning paper 
flopped on the door- 
steps of its subscribers at the 
usual hour. 

Delia, as was her custom, 
swung open the portals of the 
Walsh mansion, scooped up 
the rolled paper and went Ph otob y Moss 
into the house. 



But this was her liege’s wedding day. 
That worthy gentleman lay at the moment 
buried in a mound of bed clothes, snoring 
like a huge sea cow. It would be hours 
before he awakened. There would be no 
customary reading of the morning paper 
at the breakfast table. A crumpled news- 
paper at such a time was a drug on the 
market. 

It flopped into the waste basket. 

At the usual hour, the Stockton butler 
stepped out to the terrace, inhaled a breath 
of morning air, picked up the morning 
paper and departed into the house. 

But this was Miss Cynthia’s wedding 
day. Already, the house was astir; and 
thus it was that the paper found its way 
to the hall table, an unwanted thing of 
ugly pot. There it lay throughout the 
day, unopened and unread. 

The residents of Sterling however, were 
running on their regular schedule. By 
nine o’clock the story was being mouthed 
as a delicious morsel of scandal, for Stan- 
ley had painted a picture with a carmine 
brush. 

Minerva was up early. Her husband, a 
humored invalid slept late to conserve his 
strength for the ceremony. Cynthia, after 
a sleepless night, had finally succumbed to 



Canyon Palms 



the blessings of a profound slumber. 
Throughout the long hours the terrors of 
her coming marriage to Walsh had lashed 
her brain with stinging thoughts of re- 
bellion. 

In the grip of her dreams, she had seen 
herself as one besieged. On one side, her 
mother, garbed as a battle-crying Brunne- 
hilde, hurled javelins at her, anathema- 
tizing her with cries of, “Ungrateful 
child,” — “see what you have done,” — “look 
at your poor father,” — “he is ruined, and 
we are disgraced.” 

From the opposite side, Walsh, in his 
rage, tore big chunks out of the Stockton 
factories and threw them at her in fiendish 
glee. 

Turning in blind fear to escape her tor- 
mentors, she saw her father confronting 
her as if in condemnation. He seemed to 
falter and then fall lifeless to the ground. 
She wanted to go to him, but she found 
herself running — running as one possessed 
in the other direction. The road lay open 
before her. In the distance, she could 
see the gates of the Ogre’s castle opening, 
as if to offer sanctuary. She stumbled on, 
passed through the gates, heard them clang 
shut, and dropped breathlessly to her knees. 
The young Ogre came to her, lifted her 
up gently, and carried )ier 
away. 

In Stanley Warrington’s 
arms, she had fallen asleep. 

“A Welsh rabbit night- 
mare,” would have been Bill 
Dobbin’s comment. 

T he wedding was to take 
place at eight o’clock 
that evening. Any girl could 
be married in a drawing room 
at four in the afternoon, but 
Minerva was forever striving 
for something new. 

On the broad, green sward 
of the Stockton estate, an al- 
tar banked with roses, was re- 
ceiving its finishing touches by 
a florist of discernment. A 
hundred or more chairs were 
being unfolded and set up. 
From a hidden group of 
palms and shrubbery, an or- 
chestra would thunder out the 
measured tread of Mendel- 
sohn’s melody. In another 
bower, a caterer was unpack- 
ing his viands, silverware and 
dishes. 

Many lanterns of variegat- 
ed hues were being strung to 
invisible wires, while Min- 
erva, the creator and builder 
of this fairyland, scurried 
about, giving an order here, 
or a suggestion there. 

The wedding gown in all 
its finery lay in state in Cyn- 
thia’s boudoir. A wardrobe 
trunk, one of the many pres- 





32 

sent — with a gold plate bearing the en- 
graved name of Mrs. Addison Walsh, 
awaited its assortment of finery for the 
honeymoon. 

In the office of the Daily Eagle, Bill 
Dobbins was busily engaged in cleaning and 
oiling an old horse pistol. 

“What’s the big idea?” asked his father, 
as he peeled oft his coat for the day’s 
work. 

“Just mobilizing.” 

“Who for— Walsh?” 

“Yep.” 

“You’re crazy.” 

“Sure, crazy like a fox." 

“He wouldn’t dare get rough,” said Cal, 
snorting out his work. 

“Nevertheless,” observed the cautious 
one. “When he reads our little sketch, 
he’s going to bounce right through his roof 
and land in here. He may come empty- 
handed — and he may not.” 

Cal chuckled. It smacked of the days 
when men went gunning for the editor. 

“By the way,” inquired Cal. “Where 
is ye editor of ye paper?” 

“Gone dove shooting.” 

“Think he’s afraid to show up?” 

“Not on your life,” replied Bill loyally. 
“He isn’t afraid of anything — unless it’s a 
girl.” 

Cal gazed out the window in retrospec- 
tion. 

“The mills of the gods grind slowly, 
but they grind exceeding small,” he 
mused. 

“Which leads us to ?” queried Bill. 

“I was just wondering what Cynthia 
will do when she reads that,” said Cal, tap- 
ping the article with his finger. 

The younger Dobbin indulged in a grin 
of satisfaction. 

“She’ll just naturally pick up a monkey 
wrench, and throw it in Addy’s machin- 
ery.” 

“There’ll be the devil to pay if she does,” 
Cal predicted. “He’ll just teetotally beg- 
gar them.” 

“Sure,” acquiesced his worthy son. “But 
out of the ruins, Cynthia will rise — beauti- 
ful — and resourceful. Gosh,” he added, 
viewing himself in a pocket mirror. “Being 
married to Cynthia wouldn’t be hard to 
take.” 

Cal gazed at his boy with paternal pride. 
“Never mind, kid,” he said in a gentle 
tone. “Some day, some girl is going to 
fall hard for those freckles of yours. 

“Yeah,” admitted Bill doubtfully. “The 
fall will be hard — on her. Now — if I only 
looked like good old Stan — Say! “he said, 
jumping to his feet, “That’s how it ought 
to be. Wouldn’t they make a pair to 
draw to?” 

“It isn’t in the cards,” said Cal laconi- 
cally. 

“Ever drink deep of those eyes of hers?” 
“No — and neither has he.” 

“Well — maybe he hasn’t drunk deep — 
but I’ll bet he’s taken a little sip.” With 



©irector 

that bright remark, he turned to the clean- 
ing of his gun. 

I T lacked ten minutes of eight. In just 
about fifteen minutes, Cynthia would 
be Mrs. Addison Walsh. That accomp- 
lished — and Minerva secretly admitted it 
to be an accomplishment— the future of 
the Stocktons would be firmly planted on 
a solid foundation. 

The guests were being ushered to their 
seats. The orchestra was tuning up, while 
the bridesmaids chattered and preened 
themselves in the library, like a bevy of 
magpies. 

The bridegroom had not arrived as yet, 
but that perfumed Lothario was already 
on the way. Seated in his closed car, he 
removed his silk hat, and mopped the mois- 
ture from his brow with a handkerchief as 
big as a lunch cloth. 

Outwardly he appeared to be calm, but 
inwardly he was literally stewing. Delia 
had to practically blast him out of bed. He 
had, what is termed — a beautiful hangover. 
But, by the aid of a barber, a cold shower 
and a good jolt of whiskey, topped off with 
a peppermint lozenger on the tongue, he 
felt able to go through with it. 

Thoughts of the beautiful girl who 
would soon be nestling in his arms, buoyed 
him up. 

It was his crowning hour — the ultimate 
achievement of his career. “Cynthia — his 
priceless princess of love — ” 

Walsh was plunging joyously into a sea 
of gush. 

Cal and Bill had waited all day for the 
explosion. As the hour of the wedding 
drew near, they had to scurry around at 
the last minute to get their dress suits out 
of camphor, have them pressed and find 
suitable linen. 

Standing on the Stockton lawn, absorb- 
ing the beauties of the scene, they marveled. 
Not a peep out of Walsh, nor a protest 
from Mrs. Stockton. Everything was pro- 
ceeding merrily, despite the story of the 
bachelor dinner. 

“Wonder if anybody reads our paper,” 
muttered Bill. 

“Looks as if they didn’t” said Cal. 
“What’s got into everybody?” asked 
Bill. “Is it possible the king can do no 
wrong r 

Cal had no answer for him. 

A town car glided up to the house. The 
bridegroom alighted somewhat gingerly, it 
seemed to them. Then he hurried into the 
house, and was shown immediately into 
the music room. He came in, shut and 
locked the door, and sank into a chair. His 
best man turned in relief from his nervous 
pacing of the floor. Addison groaned and 
held his head in his hands. The friend, 
who had been a guest at the Poodle Dog 
the night before, had come prepared. He 
quickly produced a silver flask, and silently 
handed it to the stricken man. 

He drained it with a series of guzzling 



November 

gulps, like a man just off the desert would 
guzzle water. 

“Thanks, old chap,” he murmured faint- 
ly, as he leaned his head on the back of 
the chair. “It was some party, wasn’t it?” 
The flask-toter granted it to be a record- 
breaker, and took a swig of the flask to 
fortify himself. 

M rs. Clotilde Burlingame-Magoun was 
one of the guests who read her morn- 
ing paper assiduously. A charming widow, 
grass and otherwise — was Clotilde. Pos- 
sessed of a small income, that made it an 
unpleasant strain to live up to her apparent 
affluence ; stories of her vast estates having 
been judiciously spread throughout the 
community, she was usually hard pressed 
to make both ends meet. 

With her beautiful eyes, deep wells of 
onyx, someone had called them, continu- 
ally scanning the matrimonial horizon for 
a man whose rating in Bradstreet’s would 
relieve the situation, she had set her cap 
for Walsh and nearly landed him. 

But that was a year ago, then he had 
slipped away from her and turned to Cyn- 
thia Stockton. 

Disappointment turned to rage, and rage 
to a roaring furnace of revenge. She stood 
in the Stockton hallway, gazing wistfully 
at the door of the music room, through 
which, Walsh had passed not a moment 
before. 

For a year she had nursed a forlorn hope 
that she might recapture him, but now 
she realized that all was over. He was 
lost to her forever. 

With a sigh, relative to a groan, she 
turned to go. Glancing down at the table, 
the crumpled newspaper caught her eve. 
H er nimble wits instantly apprised her 
of its significace there. Could it really be, 
that no one in the household had read the 
story? If that were true, and it appeared 
to be so — then she could understand many 
things that had puzzled her. She knew 
Cynthia well enough to realize the effect 
such a tale would have on her. As for 
herself, she was willing at all time to take 
Walsh — as is. 

A clever plan inspired her. 

Hastily picking up the newspaper, she 
called the passing butler, who hurried over 
and bowed profoundly before this ravish- 
ing guest. 

“Could you tell me?” she inquired in a 
throaty tone of voice, “Whether anyone 
here has seen the morning paper? I found 
it here, rolled up — just as it was delivered 
this morning, I presume. 

The heavy Englishman nodded impres- 
sively. 

“I think not ma’m,” he said, radiating 
competance. “I placed it there myself. It 

has been such a busy day ” 

“I quite understand,” said Clotilde, an- 
ticipating him. “I wonder if you would 
do me a favor? There’s an article in this 

(Continued on Page 58) 



192 5 



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33 




The Playhouse of the Stars 

THE Screen Club 

By Harry D. IV its on Hit Lake Hrrowhead 



O N a lofty bluff overlooking in one 
direction Lake Arrowhead and the 
forest beyond and in another the 
little Swiss village of Arrowhead nestling 
at its base, awaiting for its formal opening 
but the first fall of snow in this mountain 
retreat where the white mantle of winter 
affords pleasing contrast to the semi-tropi- 
cal climate of Southern California’s play- 
ground, stands the recently completed 
Screen Club, the first exclusively cinematic 
institution of its kind. 

With that first fall of snow at Arrow- 
head mighty logs will sizzle and spark and 
burn in the giant fire place of the trophy 
room and final plans for the formal opening 
for which all preliminary preparations have 
already been made, will be whipped into 
shape and this new mountain home for 
the stars and executives of the silent drama 
colony of Hollywood will be officially and 
formally dedicated. 



Linlike many openings in the theatrical 
world, last minute hustle and bustle is des- 
tined to be utterly lacking, for the Screen 
Club stands today complete in every detail, 
beautifully and attractively furnished, with 
landscaping and gardening and all the at- 
tendant decorative details fully carried out, 
— a treat to the eye and something that 
the motion picture industry may well be 
proud to claim as its own. 

“There is nothing like it anywhere 
whether it be in the White Mountains, the 
Blue Hills, or Switzerland,” said Norman 
Manning, well-known sportsman and in 
charge of the activities of the new club. 
“It has been created for the screen stars 
and studio executives and its organization 
consists of some of the finest business men 
in the film colony. 

“The club,” continued Manning, “will 
be available all the year ’round and during 
the winter months, winter sports will be 



the interesting appeal while in the summer, 
there is everything on hand for the vacation 
hunter and for that ‘few days rest from 
the studio’ feeling. 

“The club is probably one of the most 
picturesque and interesting place in the 
land. It is large and spacious, contains 
some sixty guest chambers, a huge living 
room, the wonderful trophy room, and in 
fact, everything that a modern up-to-the- 
minute gentleman’s lodge should boast.” 

That the film colony is responding to the 
membership invitation is evinced in those 
who have been participating in the activi- 
ties of the club house despite the fact it has 
not, as yet, been formally opened. 

Stars such as Lewis Stone, Anna Q. 
Nilsson, Dorothy Mackaill, Blanche Sweet, 
Lew Cody, Henry B. Walthall, Lloyd 
Hughes, Bert Lytell, Claire Windsor, 
Mary Akin, Dolores del Rio, Ben Lyon, 
Milton Sills, Alice Joyce, Agnes Ayres, 





November 



34 

and many more are keenly interested in the 
club and its future. Directors of the 
standing of Frank Lloyd, Edwin Carewe, 
Alfred E. Green, Curt Rehfeld, John 
Francis Dillon, Irving Cummings, and 
others are among those participating in the 
activities of the club. 

“That the Screen Club will be a lasting 
home for the film folks — a retreat high up 
and away from the busy whirl of the studio 
life, is assured,” continued Manning. 
“From every quarter, we are receiving re- 
quests for membership and questions asked 
relative to the procedure for joining. It is 
created exclusively for the Screen people 
and the executives of the picture industry. 
It will be one of the show place of South- 



Director 

ern California and there is no doubt but 
that it will be doing a capacity business 
every week of the year.” 

‘“One of the interesting angles about the 
Arrowhead Screen Club,” said Lewis 
Stone, one of the most enthusiastic boost- 
ers of the institution and himself a prop- 
erty owner of no small means in the Lake 
Arrowhead region, “is in the fact it is so 
near Hollywood. The average driver can 
make it on a non-stop basis in three and 
a half hours and not be afraid of traffic 
officers on the highways. The approach is 
ideal. No rough roads and the incline 
from the foot of the hills until one stops his 
motor at the main gate of the resort, is most 
easy for any automobile of modern type.” 



A gala opening is being planned. At 
this opening, stars and directors and offi- 
cials of filmdom will gather and pay hom- 
age to their new mountain home. This 
event will be with the first fall of snow 
and plans are now afoot to stage a giant 
winter carnival in connection with the 
opening. 

There is a toboggan slide of a mile in 
length, facilities for ice skating, ski sports, 
and everything that an Eastern winter re- 
sort can offer. The opening of the Screen 
Club of Lake Arrowhead promises to be 
one of the events of the winter months — 
something for the film folk to look for- 
ward to with no mean anticipation. 



Grown - Ups and the 

Serial Picture Play 



An Interview with William Lord Wright 

By Walter M. Leslie 



W ILLIAM LORD WRIGHT, 
head of Universal serial depart- 
ment, takes exception to the oft- 
heard remark that the serial picture play 
is only for children and that it appeals only 
to children. 

“The serial picture,” says Wright, “as 
regards the more mature movie fans is 
much the same as the circus. The children 
are only a means to the end. Parents, 
uncles, aunts and older brothers and sisters 
use the children as an excuse to go to the 
circus. And by the same token, they use 
the children as an excuse to follow the 
thrilling episodes of a serial picture. They 
enjoy it but won’t admit it!” 

“Many of the big feature pictures are 
nothing more nor less than glorified ser- 
ials,” continued Wright, “costing more, 
but with no greater attention paid to detail 
than is given the serial. Serials are slowly 
but steadily gaining in public favor. There 
might have been a slump for a time but 
this has passed. Universal’s belief, not 
only in the growing popularity of the ser- 
ial picture, but also in its educative value, 
is shown by the program it has mapped 
out. We will make six serials the coming 
year and perhaps eight. 

“More money is now being spent on 
serials than heretofore, not only as regards 
cost of production, but also as regards price 
paid for stories and casts. Historical at- 
mosphere is being sought for more and 
more, and some of the best writers of the 



country have contributed their efforts to 
Universal’s coming program. Another 
thing, serials are being given more comedy 
relief, which appeals not only to the chil- 
dren but also to the grown-ups. The suc- 
cessful serial must be clean above every- 
thing else. In considering stories, that is 
Universal’s first thought. Then it must 
have novelty and enough of a plot to make 
it interest sustaining for 10 weeks, and 
that is what we are getting now. 

“The serial is, I think, the most diffi- 
cult feature of motion picture work. Where 
it treats of historical matters, it must fol- 
low history closely. Writers of serials 
must know their technique, and directors 
must display more resourcefulness than in 
any other brand of pictures. Getting back 
to the serial and grown-ups, the serial is 
reaching out and replacing the hold that 
juvenile literature once had on the chil- 
dren’s elders. Many a tired business and 
professional man has been known to seek 
relief from his worries through the medium 
of books that he once read as a child. Now 
he is seeking that same relief from the 
serial pictures. 

“Take Perils of the Wild, one of Uni- 
versal’s recent releases. It is a screen adap- 
tation of the famous Swiss Family Robin- 
son. It is reported as drawing as many 
older persons as it does children. This, I 
think, is the first serial showing boys work- 
ing in adventure. Four youngsters have 
prominent parts in it. Children like to 



see those of their own age going through 
adventures on the screen, and the grown- 
ups get much the same feeling out of it, 
for it takes them back to the days when 
they had visualized themselves in these very 
roles. 

“The present day serial can be made of 
wonderful educational value and that is 
what Universal is striving for. We are 
now finishing two such pictures. One is 
Strings of Steel, and the other The Radio 
Detective. The former is a thrilling and 
romantic story of the invention and devel- 
opment of the telephone. Before we began 
to make that picture, we secured the co- 
operation of the Bell system. We were 
given access to their museum in New York 
City and from the data secured there and 
from veterans still in the service, we have 
produced an historical picture that will be 
instructive and interesting to all ages. 

The Radio Detective is based on Arthur 
B. Reeve’s story of the same name. Every- 
thing touching on the radio that appears 
in this picture was first passed on by radio 
authorities. Boy Scouts play an important 
part in it and here, as well as through the 
radio feature, is something that certainly 
appeals to others than children. While the 
serial has been described as a ‘children’s 
picture,’ it is a safe bet that father and 
mother, uncle and aunt, and elder brother 
and sister are glad to be able to see one 
even though they do hide behind the ex- 
cuse, ‘the children like it.’ ” 



19 2 5 



director 



35 



IV bat 

Bill 

Hart 

Stands for 




Bill Hart among the tumbleweeds 



By Adam Hull Shirk 

W ILLIAM S. (Bill) HART has 
always stood pre-eminently in mo- 
tion pictures, for clean, wholesome, 
western drama. The few other types of 
films in which he has starred were so to 
speak incidental to his metier — i.e. — the 
portrayal of western types in pictures which 
deal with either historical or purely imagi- 
native incidents in the developments of the 
frontiers of our country. 

The fact that millions of boys love 
Bill Hart and adore his pictures is ade- 
quate proof, if there were none other, of 
the clean character of his photodramas. 
The evil in men has not been held up for 
aggrandizement, and always the villain has 
received his just punishment. Bill Hart 
has always stood, as he does today, for fine- 
ness of character, for bravery, honesty, dig- 
nity and clean-cut manhood. No milk and 
water heroes, his — but red blooded men 
who fought against obstacles, and won by 
sheer pluck and sturdiness of character and 
an infallible belief in justice. 

His present vehicle, soon to be released 
by United Artists is “Tumbleweeds” adap- 
ted by C. Gardner Sullivan from Hal. G. 
Evarts novel, and directed by King Baggot. 
It is an epic of the west, with the central 
element of the great land rush in ’89 for 
the Cherokee Strip, when it was opened 
to homesteaders. This was in Kansas and 
Oklahoma and the scenes and incidents of 
the period are ablv depicted. Barbara Bed- 
ford is his leading woman and there is an 
excellent cast. 

This picture cost $300,000. That is a 
good deal for a western picture some may 
say, but this is no common western ; it is 
an epic drama with power and strength 
and romance as well as a great historical 
background. The land rush alone re- 
quired the services of thousands of horses 
and wagons, hundred of people and nine- 
teen cameras to get the shots. 



Bill Hart makes history as he goes along; 
rather, he perpetuates in celluloid the his- 
tory of the great west. As few other 
men do, he knows his west. He has stu- 
died it, knows many men whose names are 
part and parcel of its development. He 
loves it and he makes his pictures labors 
of love. Yet he is keen enough in his 
business judgment to know the require- 
ments of the box office and as a result his 
films have always been successful. The 
first one he ever made, and every one made 
since, is still being shown and in demand. 
This is a record few stars can point to. 

Withal, Bill Hart, with his love of ani- 
mals and his great interest in the boys of 
the nation ; his studious habits and his quiet, 



methodical manner, is one of the most 
modest and considerate of men. His asso- 
ciates swear by him. He is eminently just 
and fair. 

Few men are more often referred to in 
the writings of famous authors — such as 
Sherwood Anderson, James Montgomery 
Flagg, Katherine Fullerton Gerould — all 
of whom have referred to him in glowing 
terms, as the true western exponent of 
drama for the screen, and, moreover, as a 
man who in real life is all that his screen 
characterizations imply — a man who is im- 
bued with the spirit of honesty, justice and 
fairness, big of soul and heart, a man who 
stands pre-eminently as one of the great 
bulwarks of the film industry. 



N ovember 



©irector 



Motives and Motifs 




W HEN I was a schoolboy in San 
Francisco, our teacher constantly re- 
iterated a copy book efficiency 
maxim which, if I remember correctly, was 
as follows: 

“One safe, sure and attainable quality 
is that of attention. It will grow in the 
poorest of soil and in its own due time 
bring forth flowers and fruit.” 

It made a tremendous impression on me 
at the time as an efficiency maxim to pro- 
mote concentration in studies, but it was 
not until years later that I recognized its 
application to other things. 

To my mind it is the very foundation 
of the science of the theatrical business as 
we know it today, whether it be grand 
opera, drama, vaudeville, the staging of 
great film productions, or the neighbor- 
hood motion picture show. 

The producer or exhibitor is in the posi- 
tion of the school teacher seeking to gain 
and hold the attention of his audience, the 
general public. He must first of all draw 
the interest of the great crowd seeking di- 
version or education, as the case may be. 

Experience has shown that the most suc- 
cessful productions are those which attract 
the attention of all sorts of people, young 
and old, ingenuous and sophisticated. Plays 
that are designed for a class, or which harp 
too much on one chord, or which are un- 
derstandable only to a small part of the 



Grauman 



population, usually are short lived. The 
plays that endure are these for the masses. 

The playhouses that most frequently dis- 
play the ‘S.R.O.’ sign, you will find are 
comfortable, conveniently arranged for the 
public, and courteously conducted. You 
cannot hold the attention of the audience 
if the patrons are cold, cramped or crowd- 
ed, and slights or discourtesies from the 
house personnel will establish a disagree- 
able feeling that will distract attention dur- 
ing the whole performance. 

Productions that hold the attention of 
the masses appeal to all the senses. The 
introductory music by its auditory appeal 



gets the audience into a receptive mood, 
and the experienced exhibitor avoids per- 
mitting it to be too insistent in volume. I 
have seen stage performances terribly handi- 
capped by an overzealous orchestra con- 
ductor. 

The motion picture alone, which reaches 
the sensibilities of the audience solely 
through the eyes, will not suffice as com- 
plete entertainment. The prologue gives 
the opportunity to vary the sensory appeal 
and prepare the audience for the picture 
production. It should be artistic, to ap- 
peal to the sense of refinement. With the 
stage spectacle you may reach the sense of 
rhythm through the dance, beauty, grace 
and poise through the tableaux, and un- 
limited opportunity is given to appeal to 
the humorous and dramatic senses of the 
audience. There are no limitations to the 
effects that can be achieved by scenic art 
and costuming. 






192 5 



©irector 



37 




Sid Grauman’s success in making The Egyptian more than just a theatre but a national insti- 
tution HAS ENCOURAGED HIM IN CARRYING OUT HIS PLANS FOR THE ERECTION OF A COLORFUL ORIENTAL 
PLAYHOUSE WITH A DISTINCTIVELY CHINESE MOTIF. The FORECOURT, ENTRANCE TO WHICH IS SHOWN 
ABOVE, WILL CONSTITUTE A LAVISHLY LAID OUT CHINESE GARDEN SURROUNDED BY FORTY-FOOT WALLS. 

Ground for the new theatre will be broken early in November. 



The picture play prologue that holds the 
attention of the audience is an introductory 
entity in itself. Simple vaudeville acts, no 
matter how striking or novel, unrelated one 
to the other or to the picture production, 
distract the attention, and destroy the ele- 



ment of suspense for what is to follow, 
which is the very object of the prologue. 

I N staging the prologue for Charlie 
Chaplin’s “The Gold Rush’’ at the 
Egyptian theater, a problem was presented 
which illustrates this point. The setting 



for the entire prologue was a panoramic 
spectacle of Chilkoot Pass in the Klondike. 
1 did not want to lower the curtain during 
the entire prologue to risk diverting the 
attention of the spectators, if it possibly 
could be avoided. And yet I had planned 



38 



November 



director 



to present a Monte Carlo dancehall scene 
in the spectacle. In studying the problem 
from all angles, I was struck with the idea 
of the manner in which such an effect is 
usually accomplished in motion pictures, in 
presenting dream illusions on the screen, 
‘the lap-dissolve’. 

The mechanics presented some difficul- 
ties, but the problem was finally solved by 
cutting the set in two and introducing the 
halves simultaneously from both sides of 
the stage, with the players in position on 
the ground floor and the balcony of the 
dancehall ready for the play the instant the 
illusion was complete. 

The set was removed the same way it 
was introduced, with only a slight dimming 
of the lights, for the final scene of ‘Charlie 
Chaplin’s Dream’, the panorama of the 
pass. 

The effect accomplished more than re- 
paid for the effort, for it permitted the 
staging of the prologue spectacle without a 
curtain or any interruption. A continuous 
snowstorm throughout the prologue was 
visible to the audience through the dance- 
hall windows. 

W HEN the Egyptian theater was pro- 
jected for Hollywood, I was warned 
by theatrical men in whose judgment I 
had the greatest confidence that I was mak- 
ing a mistake in choosing a location. It 



was too far from the center of population, 
they said, and the public would not go to 
Hollywood to see a picture show, no mat- 
ter how elaborately it was staged. If an 
ordinary theater had been contemplated, 
their advice would have been heeded. 

But my plans called for a playhouse of 
a different character from the ordinary 
conception of a theater. I desired to erect 
a structure that would command the atten- 
tion not only of the residents, but of the 
winter tourists. I had in mind an institu- 
tion unique not only in architectural de- 
sign, but from the standpoint of the char- 
acter of the productions to be offered. 

The Egyptian was designed with a fore- 
court as a means of holding the attention 
of the public all day long where exhibits of 
an interesting or educational nature rela- 
tive to the production could be displayed. 
It also offers a commodious and conven- 
ient park for the audience, both men and 
women, to use as a promenade during in- 
termission. 

The favor the Egyptian has enjoyed 
from the public in the last three years has 
given me the courage to go ahead with 
plans for the new Chinese theater to be 
located on Hollywood boulevard, near Or- 
chid avenue, a project I have had in mind 
for years for a playhouse for the produc- 
tion not only of picture plays, but of grand 
opera and drama as well. 



Faith in the future of Hollywood and 
Los Angeles convinces me that the time 
has arrived when the best of facilities for 
production of plays and pictures are none 
too good. 

The plans call for a great oriental garden 
within 40 foot walls as a forecourt in which 
I hope to be able to incorporate such sur- 
roundings as to give the impression that 
the visitor is in truth entering another 
world. 

While it will not be the largest theater 
of its kind, I have planned an institution 
which incorporates my best efforts to pro- 
vide a setting unique and splendid enough 
to be worthy of the surpassing class of pro- 
ductions I am confident are to be produced 
here. 

To perpetuate for posterity the memory 
of the artists of the screen who have done 
so much for the Southland, a hall of fame 
will be included in which will be hung 
paintings and sculpture by artists of inter- 
national reputation presenting the stars of 
today and tomorrow. 

Hollywood already commands the at- 
tention of the world as its cinema capital. 
With the world renowned figures of the 
stage and the screen, music and other arts 
resident here, why cannot Hollywood at- 
tract the attention of the universe as an 
artistic center and realize the fruits and 
flowers promised by the copy book? 



The 

Barnstormer 



O UR week in San Diego ran around 
fourteen hundred dollars, but as 
were on a fifty-fifty percentage we 
did not clear as much as we did in San 
Bernardino. 

Our next stop was Bakersfield, where 
we were booked for a three night stand. 
I had located a new edition of fine four- 
colored litho work for Ten Nights in a 
Barroom, so had our advance man adver- 
tise this for the last night. Mr. Scribner, 
the manager, pleaded with me to substitute 
something else, saying, “No one will come 
to see that old nightmare”. The customers 
didn’t show up in overwhelming numbers 
the first two nights, but for Wednesday, 
our last night, the reserved seats were sold 
out early in the afternoon. We actually 
turned people away. The receipts on old 
Ten Nights were $285, but I don’t think 
the show was lucky — a blacksmith after 
witnessing the performance went home and 
blew his brains out. 

We hit Selma next. Here the house 



PART III 

By Frank Cooley 

lights and stage lights were lamps. The 
manager had worked out a dimming sys- 
tem with strings, but it didn’t work very 
well, the wicks burning to different lengths. 
Then when the string was pulled some 
would go out entirely, and when the string 
was pulled the other way, some would go 
up too high and smoke, then someone in 
the audience would run up and blow the 
offender out. 

We had a new actor, Joe Rhodes, whom 
I had picked up in Redlands. He said he 
hadn’t had much experience but “was as 
limber as a string”. He was playing Wil- 
lie Green in Ten Nights. Willie gets 
shot at the end of the first act, I think. 
We opened in Ten Nights so I could use 
my advance man as an actor and still be 
able to get him off in time to bill the next 
town. When Joe was shot he did a very 
dramatic and elaborate fall, but there was 



quite a bit of stage below the curtain and 
when Joe finally came to rest, he was in 
front of the curtain line. I whispered 
loudly to him from R. 1st, where I stood 
ready to ring down, “Joe, get back! You’re 
in front of the curtain.” Joe opened an 
eye, saw the curtain, which was on a big 
roll, trembling, ready to descend. He 
arose, moved upstage, and died all over 
again. The curtain came down with au- 
dience and actors enjoying a hearty laugh. 
The show again was unlucky. W e played 
to a good house, but during the second act 
a boy ran in crying, “Mr. Thompson, your 
house is on fire!” Mr. Thompson and 
family hurried out, but their house burned 
to the ground and they had to get rooms 
at the hotel for the night. 

We were now playing Under Two Flags 
for our second night. The janitor, who 
also ran the curtain, brought his little 
brother to see the show from the wings. 
He had him stationed in the first entrance. 
The sword fight between Black Hawk and 



1925 



39 



©irector 




morning paper came in, spoke to me and 
started a conversation, hut I was an indif- 
ferent listener as I was wondering where I 
had seen the man before, who was at the 
moment entering his name on the register. 
He had the politician’s smile, and was 
rather good looking, his dark hair streaked 
with gray reaching almost to his shoulders. 
As soon as he left the register I sauntered 
over to the desk. You can imagine my 
surprise when I learned it was Dr. Booth? 



I N a few weeks we 
hit San Jose. All 
went well till Sunday 
morning. I was 
dressed in my best 
clothes and moving 
along Santa Clara 
Avenue with a roll of 
music under my arm, 
on my rvay to try out 
some songs with the 
first soprano of the big 
Catholic church. As I 
was passing a saloon, a 
young man in a bicycle 
suit was backing hur- 
riedly out, followed by 
two hard looking cus- 
tomers who were hit- 
ting him with all their 
artillery. As he neared me he was knocked 
down and one man started to kick him. 
I held the larger man away, saying, “Your 
partner can lick him without you.” My 
back was turned to the man on the ground 
and his opponent. 

Suddenly I received an ungodly swing 
on the right ear. I turned to face my 
enemy and as I did so, the big fellow that 
I had held off swung one from the hip 
and caught me on side of the nose. If it 



Jim Corbett loses a bet to Frank Cooley and pays it many years 
later — Jim Corbett at left, Frank Cooley at right. 



Bertie Cecil so excited the lad that by the 
time the curtain was coming down he was 
under it. The big heavy roll caught him 
and was bearing him to the floor — I yelled 
to his brother, the janitor, and he stopped 
the windlass just in time. The boy was 
quickly pulled from under and the curtain 
allowed to descend. I was so mad that I 
made for the janitor at once and demanded 
that the boy leave the 
stage at once. He re- 
plied : “He’s my broth- 
er and he stays right 
here.” I took a punch 
at him — he looked at 
me in a daze, turned 
to his brother, saying, 

“Johnny, get the hell 
out of here!” Johnny 
went out in front and 
the show proceeded. 

The next morning I 
went over to the the- 
atre to get something 
out of my dressing 
room. The janitor was 
sweeping the stage and 
upon seeing me, he 
dropped his broom and 
quickly preceded me to 
the dressing room, 
opened the door and 
ushered me in saving, 

“Look, I’ve cleaned 
her out good for you, 

Frank.” There was 
fresh paper on the 
shelf, clean water in a 
pitcher, and quite the 
neatest dressing room 
one had a right to ex- 
pect in a small town. 

I played Selma every 
season after that for 
seven or eight years 
and never had the least 
trouble with anyone. 

I was generally called 
“Frank” by all and 
made some wonderful 
friends. 



The janitor, who 
also ran a d raying busi- 
ness, was a young man 
and the manager’s 
brother. He was a 
husky young fellow, 
yet he was taken ill 
and died a few years 
after our first visit and 
1 have always deeply regretted hitting him. 



A NOTHER recruit joined us — Mac- 
Donald — I don’t remember his first 
name. I think he runs a drug store in 
San Bernardino now. He sang between 
acts, but in Tulare the piano player and 
he couldn’t mate up and he got the “Bird”. 
I was wild and intended to fire him, but he 
anticipated me by getting out over the back 
fence and I didn’t see him again for years. 



Before I get too far away I want to 
mention regarding my trouble with Dr. 
Booth at the Needles — that several years 
after the occurence we were playing a week 
in Pomona. 

One night after dinner I was sitting in 
the hotel office, when the bus arrived from 
the station with quite a number of guests. 
As they were registering, a waiter on the 



I joined my newspaper friend and asked if 
he knew who the man with the long hair 
was. “Sure,” he said, “that’s Dr. Booth. 
He’s running for coroner of the county on 
the Democratic ticket.” 

I recalled to his mind the trouble I had 
had with the doctor at the “Needles”. My 
friend had written a two column article 
about it at the time. He was immediately 
interested and had me 
review the occurrence 
for him. His was a 
Republican paper and 
next morning’s issue 
contained rather a sour 
account of the Demo- 
cratic meeting and at 
the bottom stated, 
“Quite a coincidence — 
last night Dr. Booth 
and Frank Cooley 
were guests of the 
same hotel. This 
brings to our mind 
Frank’s first visit to 
the Needles” — then 
followed the story of 
Booth, the mob and 
the jail, ending with 
“ — and this man now 
asks the voters of Los 
Angeles county to elect 
him to the important 
office of Corner.” An- 
other coincidence, 
Booth ran ahead of his 
ticket in Los Angeles, 
but behind in the coun- 
ty. He was not elected. 



40 



had landed on top my nose would have been 
broken beyond repair. 1 succeeded in get- 
ting them both in front of me and was do- 
ing quite well, when the larger fellow said, 
“Look out, fellows, here comes the bull !” 
1 never saw this fellow again. I kept on 
with the other one, however, trying hard 
to catch him on the chin, but he was com- 
ing so fast that I kept hitting him too high. 
I opened a long cut on his left cheek and 
closed his left eye. The policeman — Mr. 
Pickering was his name — arrived and 
placed White and myself under arrest. I 
learned later that White was his name and 
he had quite a local reputation as a box 
fighter. The fellow I had protected 
mounted his wheel and rode off as soon as 
he got to his feet, never offering to help 
me in the least. I was diplomatic and the 
officer did not as much as put his hand on 
my shoulder. 

He escorted us to jail, one on each side. 
We were both bleeding freely and there 
was a large crowd following. The desk 
sergeant said, “Your bail will be $15 each.” 
I pleaded that I had to leave town early in 
the morning and wouldn’t he please reduce 
it to ten. He looked at me rather queerly, 
but agreed. We were put in the cage to- 
gether with a warning that if we got to 
fighting in there, things would go hard 
for us. 

Within an hour the darndest bunch of 
Mafia looking gents I ever saw, bailed my 
opponent out, but I remained in jail for 
over three hours before one of my company 
arrived with the necessary ten — and the 
iron doors opend for me. 

I learned later that White — my enemy 
— stood trial and was only fined eight 
dollars. On a later visit I called on Jus- 
tice Glass and tried to get my ten back, 
but he laughed and said, “That ten has 
gone towards paying the policeman’s sal- 
ary and you are lucky we don’t arrest you 
for jumping your bail.” I thanked him 
for his leniency and got away from there. 

Even r time I have played San Jose since, 
White has occupied seats in the second row 
— first alone; then with his wife; and 
finally with three children. 

On a visit just a few years ago, I hap- 
pened to be in the box office, when a very 
stout man asked for six seats in the sec- 
ond row. As he received them he said, 
“Frank Cooley sure, ain’t it?” The box 
office man answered, “Yes.” “That’s 
him,” said White; “he’s a damn good ac- 
tor.” As he stepped away from the win- 
dow the cashier whispered, “Frank, that’s 
White, the fellow you had the fight with 
years ago.” I ran out of the office and 
called, “Oh, Mr. White.” He turned, 
looked a moment, recognized me, and ex- 
claimed, “Oh, Mr. Cooley, you was dead 
wrong dat time. If you knew what dat 

did to me, by God, you hit him, 

too.” We shook hands and he said, “Dat’s 
fine.” 



TpV nptws miiu 

©irector 

W E reached San Francisco at last and 
“laid off” a week, as the leading 
lady received another offer and quit. I 
put Mrs. Cooley in the leads and engaged 
Harry Pollard, now a great director, as 
second man. 

We opened in Redwood City to $33. 
It was winter then, and as the theatre 
boasted no stove, the audience nearly froze. 
I invited them to sit down in front and 
they filled about three rows. I announced 
a stove for the next night, but evidently 
I was not believed as the receipts for the 
second night only reached $10. We made 
good nevertheless, and by Saturday we 
were doing over the century. We used 
T om Sawyer for matinees and always had 
a full house of children and mothers. I 
gave a china plate with every 25-cent ticket 
and a box of candy with every 15-cent 
ticket. 

We succeeded in keeping out of trouble 
till we reached Sebastopole. Here the 
morning we were leaving — I think it was 
about six-thirty and very cold— I jammed 
with the drayman. Our contract obligated 
me to pay four dollars for the hauling of 
trunks and scenery, round trip, but we 
had borrowed a little organ to use in The 
Daughter of Dixie — a play that Frank 
Bacon and I wrote. The drayman charged 
me a dollar and a half for taking this to 
and from the theatre. Anyone could have 
carried it, as I don’t suppose it weighed 
over sixty pounds. I grumbled while count- 
ing out the five dollars and fifty cents, and 
to be as mean as I could, picked it out of 
the bag in quarters, nickels and dimes, and 
piled it on a Wells Fargo wagon. The 
drayman suddenly pushed the pile over, 
saying, “Don’t pay a cent if you are as 
cheap as that.” I hit him and a darb of a 
fight was on. He weighed about a hundred 
and eighty. I had the best of it but he 
cut me every time he landed ; took the 
skin off the top of my big nose, cut my 
cheek, and gashed my mouth. But I had 
him bleeding plenty — all over his clothes, 
and the sight of blood scared him so that 
he dropped his hands and ran around the 
station, with me after him. His brother 
stopped me, saying, “Don’t fight any 
more, Frank, he’s got enough.” I replied, 
“He isn’t licked; he has plenty of fight in 
him yet.” But the big fellow popped his 
head around the corner of the station and 
said, “Never mind, I’m no professional 
fighter — I know when I’ve had enough.” 

They could have double-banked me and 
beat me to death, but they were good fel- 
lows and sports. The next time I played 
the town, they hauled my baggage again 
and never even asked for their money. 1 
sent the four dollars to the Hopli Hotel, 
however, and the proprietor paid the bill. 
These brothers are now two of the leading 
citizens of Sebastapole and very well to do. 
More power to them ! 

I took an awful looking face to the 
next town with me. I couldn’t take my 



November 

opponent with me to show what I had done 
to him, so I surely looked a big loser. The 
grease paint poisoned my nose and I had a 
knuckle there that was a fright to behold. 
Some one advised me to get some Hall’s 
antiseptic cream, which I did, and within 
a week the nose was O.K. 

I had an actor with me now who had 
a reputation for drinking, so I signed him 
to an agreement whereby I held out fifty 
dollars of his salary and if I caught him 
drinking, he was to forfeit the fifty. I 
was sure that he was drinking but was 
never fortunate enough to catch him. The 
show was making good but during Lent 
business was not particularly encouraging, 
with the exception of Willows. Here we 
played to a great business for a full week. 
Everyone seemed to know us. 

T HIS was mv first visit here since 1889 
when a number of members of the 
Olympic Club had given an exhibition in 
one of the big Willows wheat warehouses. 
I boxed four rounds with Phil Beaulo. 
My boxing partner, Lovett Lafferty, 
sparred with Jim Corbett. Bob McCord 
was to have been Corbett’s partner, but 
failed to show up. The show was short 
so I was hustled into a long coat and re- 
cited, “Anthony’s Address to the Romans,” 
from the ring. 

There was a colored foot racer by the 
name of Pickett in town — a bootblack. His 
supporters claimed he could beat anyone 
in America for a mile. I remembered see- 
ing him run foot races at Shellmount Park, 
near Berkeley, and was sure I could beat 
him. I told Corbett this and right away 
he arranged a foot race between us to take 
place the following day. We had a hard 
time raising two hundred and fifty dollars, 
which Pickett’s backers demanded. In fact 
Corbett pawned his gold watch before we 
could total that amount. 

Just before the race my nose started to 
bleed and I was leaning against the fence 
trying to stop it, when Corbett saw me. 
He thought his money was about to bid 
him farewell. He raved and called me 
everything, but the nose didn’t bleed long 
and in a short time we got on the mark. 
At the crack of the pistol Pickett ran away 
from me — the crowd roared. He reached 
the quarter pole a good thirty feet ahead 
of me, but I set after him down the back 
stretch and caught him at the half mile 
pole and finished the mile well in the lead. 

Corbett offered me twenty-five dollars 
in gold but I had to refuse to take it, al- 
though I did want it awfully bad. Later 
in San Francisco we compromised. Cor- 
bett paid for a dozen photos at the Elite 
Gallery and promised to give me a silver- 
headed cane. 

That was in 1889, when I was sixteen 
years old. Corbett never gave me the 
cane until last year when, during his visit 
to San Francisco, some of the old Olympic 
boys, Bill Keanneally and Bob MacAr- 
thur, got after him. In fact they went 



1925 



©irector 



41 



Directorial Briefs 



with him to a cane store and so thirty-five 
years later, I received the cane. It is in- 
scribed: Due Frank Cooley 1889 

Presented by 
James J. Corbett 1925 

ORNING was our next stop. 

The last night here one of the ac- 
tors and myself were playing the slot ma- 
chine and having a drink or so at the hotel 
bar. The machine was a little out of or- 
der and I won something over eleven dol- 
lars before the bartender turned it to the 
wall. We started to leave, but were in- 
vited to have a drink on the house. We 
readily consented, and after we poured 
ours, the bartender filled a fourth glass to 
the brim, saying, “Excuse me, I have a 
lady friend in the box. I’ll take this to 
her.” Then we treated and bought a drink 
for the lady in the box. This was re- 
peated several times, each glass for the 
lady filled to overflowing. We thought it 
a great joke. 

My actor companion finally told the 
bartender that his lady friend had some 
capacity. The bells were ringing for me, 
so we went to bed. I was pretty dizzy, 
to say the least, but had saved myself by 
taking very small drinks, and my friend 
had smoked several cigars, so we were 
not as bad off as we might have been. 

The next morning we assembled at the 
depot for an early jump. The actor that 
had the fifty-dollar forfeit arrived, carried 
by the property man and carpenter. He 
was surely “loaded.” I jumped all over 
him and told him he had lost his fifty. 

He looked at me with a sickly smile. 
“Oh, no, Frank,” he said, “you got me 
pickled — I was the bartender’s lady friend 
last night.” 

What could I say? I learned later that 
he sat in that box, drinking free whisky 
until he slid to the floor and had to be 
carried to bed. 

We had a ball team now. I was the 
pitcher and Harry Pollard the catcher. 
During a game in Roseburg, Oregon, 
Harry caught a foul tip fair on the nose. 
We had no masks. His nose was badly 
broken, but ht refused to quit and finished 
the game with the blood running oft his 
chin, and both eyes almost closed. We 
begged him to stop but he refused. We 
opened in the next town with my hand- 
some juvenile’s eyes blackened and almost 
closed. He certainly showed plenty of 
gameness. 

Two weeks later we closed in the Met- 
ropolitan Opera House, Portland, after a 
season of one full year. 

The actors all had money in their pock- 
ets. I didn’t have much money, but I 
had forty-one signed contracts for next 
season and was happy. I had but one los- 
ing season after that. The pictures drove 
me oft the road in 1908 and I retired to 
my ranch fully believing that the pictures 
were a fad and would run their course in 
a couple of years. r To Be 

I think maybe I was wrong, [concluded] 



In directing The Million Dollar Handi- 
cap Scott Sidney returns to the field of 
drama after several years of comedy direct- 
ing at the Christie studios. 

* * * 

“Slim” Summervils, the elongated mega- 

phone weilder is directing Look Out Be- 
low, Joe Rock’s current standard comedy. 

-*■ ' # * 

A1 Rogell, the mascot director, has com- 
pleted his twin pictures The Overland 
Trail and Red Hot Leather featuring Jack 
Hoxie, and is busy editing and titling both 
productions. 

* * * 

Finis Fox, scenarist, director and former 

producer, has been signed by Metropolitan 

Pictures and will augment the scenario 
staff of which Jack Cunningham is the 
editorial chi< f. 

* * * 

Sam Taylor is finishing the heavy traffic 
scenes in Harold Lloyd’s first production 
on the Paramount program and according- 
ly activities on the picture are returning to 
the normalcy of six-days a week. For 

Heaven's Sake is the working title. 

* * * 

The New Commandment, the first east- 
ern-made production directed by Howard 
Higgin, is reported to have been warmly 
received at a trade showing in New York. 

* * * 

The entire freshman class at Fordham 
University turned out en masse to see The 
Freshman, Harold Lloyd’s current produc- 
tion directed by Sam Taylor, thus honor- 
ing one of their alumnus. Sam Taylor 
graduated from Fordham in 1915. 

* * * 

Bill Beaudine will resume work under 
his contract with Warner Bros., upon the 
completion of his direction of Mary Pick- 
ford in Scraps. 

* * * 

Jack Conway is directing an all star 
cast headed by Aileen Pringle and Edmund 
Lowe in The Reason fVhy, most success- 
ful of all Elinor Glyn’s novels, at the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios. 

* # * 

After an absence of nearly two years 
Robert Thornby returns to the studios in 
the capacity of director, and has started 
work on the latest Christie comedy, The 
Man Pays, featuring Neal Burns and Vera 
Steadman. 

* * * 

Billie Dove says being married to a 
director has many advantages aside from 
domestic relationship and asserts that Irvin 
Willat is her severest critic. 



Paris is reported as being scheduled as 
Paul Bern’s first Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer 
production, the continuity of which is being 
done by Jessie Burns from an original story 
by Carey Wilson. 

* * 

From the M-G-M lot comes the report 
that Victor Seastrom is busy lecturing on 
American customs to his countrymen in the 
industry, adding that he is “father con- 
fessor” to Greto Garbo, Mauritz Stiller 
and Benjamin Christiansen, newer arrivals 
from Europe. 

* * * 

Edward Sloman has been called to New 
York to supervise the cutting of his recently 
completed Universal feature, His People. 

* * * 

Jean Hersholt has returned from Port- 
land and points North and is again on the 
lot at Universal City waiting for his next 
assignment. Hersholt was loaned to Louis 
Moomaw to direct the Moomaw produc- 
tion T o the Brave. 

* # # 

Concluding his first vacation in three 
years Reginald Barker has returned from a 
three week’s trip to Chicago and New 

York, mostly New York, and is now lining 
up for directorial activity for the fall and 
winter. Barker’s trip seemed to have been 
marked by festivities all along the route. 
On the eve of his departure a dinner was 
given in his honor at Cafe Lafayette at 
which notables of screen and publication 
world were present. In Chicago he was 
greeted by. the Fourth Estate who were his 
hosts between trains and in New York 
he was met at the Grand Central by a 
delegation from The Players of which he 
has long been a member. 

* 

George Melford has returned from 
Sitka, Alaska, where he has been on loca- 
tion with his Rocking Moon company for 
Metropolitan. Incidentally Rocking Moon 
is reported as being the first production to 
be filmed on location at Sitka. 

* * * 

James Hogan is busily engaged in cutting 
his recently completed production for Met- 
ropolitan, Steel Preferred. 



Doorkeeper Becomes Director 

Victor Nordlinger has been promoted from 
a gatekeeper at Universal City to director and 
will make “The Love Deputy,” starring Ed- 
mund Cobb, supported by Fay Wray, Frank 
Newberg, George F. Austin, Buck Moulton and 
little Francis Irwin. 




42 



©irector 



November 



Off Screen tSSS 

Personalities 




E VERY once in a while, Fate gets the man, the job and the opportunity together. 
Then things happen. 

The stage was set for one of these rare occasions one afternoon eight years ago 
j when a rather harrassed young man walked into what was then the Paralta Studios 
at Mel rose Avenue and Van Ness. 

Just ahead of the young man came a formidable looking person wearing a sheriff’s 
badge. The young man didn’t know it, but his destiny, as well as that of the motion 
pictures, was tied up with this coincidental entry. 

“I’d like to see the head of the studio,” said the young man. 

"That's him talking to the sheriff,” replied a workman, gloomily. 

The young man was interested. He had come to the studio with the idea of pro- 
ducing a picture and, if there was a sheriff in the offing, he wanted to know what 
it was about. 

It didn’t take long to secure the information. The studio head had taken over 
the Paralta three days before, on very favorable terms. He had just learned why 
the terms were favorable. The studio was head over heels in debt, and the sheriff 




43 



192 5 



©i rector 



i 




Courtesy 
Jay Chapman 










When M. C. Levee took over the Paralta Studios in association with 

THE LATE Bob BrUNTON IT CONSISTED OF A SMALL CROUP OF BUILDINGS AND 
A LOT OF UNUSED SPACE. TODAY THE UNITED STUDIOS IS ONE OF THE BIGGEST 

SPOTS ON THE CINEMATIC MAP. ABOVE, THE OLD PARALTA STUDIOS. At 

LEFT, THE UNITED STUDIOS AS SEEN FROM THE AIR. INSET, M. C. LeVEE AT 

THE HELM OF ONE OF THE FLOCK OF TRACTORS BUSY ALL THE TIME ON NEW 
CONSTRUCTION AT THE UNITED. 






was there to attach anything of value, 
was there to attach anything of value. 

“I’m afraid you can’t produce here,” the 
studio head said, in conclusion. “I’m 
afraid no one can.” 

But the mind of the young man had been 
working actively. In a moment, he was 
expounding a scheme by which the studio 
could be extricated from its difficulties. 
The studio head listened, first incredulous- 
ly, then with hope. Finally, while the 
sheriff waited, he and the young man 
reached an agreement. 

An hour later, the sheriff was gone, and 
the young man and the studio head had 
laid the foundations for a project which 
was to have a profound effect on the his- 
tory of motion pictures. 

The studio head was the late Robert 
Brunton, who had been art director for 
Thomas Ince. The young man — he was 
then 25 — was M. C. Levee, now president 



of the United Studios and of M. C. Levee 
Productions. 

The project which -routed the sheriff and 
changed motion picture history was the con- 
version of the Paralta, then a producing 
lot, into an independent leasing studio, the 
first in existence. 

How t important the move was can only 
be guaged by a remembrance of the time 
in which it took place. In 1917, the large 
scale independent producer was unknown. 
It was impossible that he should exist. All 
important pictures were made by the big 
producers. They had a monopoly of the 
facilities for large scale production, and 
they were not anxious to share these facili- 
ties with anyone. It was natural. Out- 
side producers would upset the normal 
tenor of their own organizations. There 
was no object in encouraging competition. 
So if you wanted to make any sort of real 
picture you could either build your own 



studio or — let the people who had studios 
go on making them. 

But the time was ripe for a change. 
Imagination and adventurousness was lack- 
ing in the big studios. They were pro- 
ducing a certain type of inexpensive pic- 
ture, and were fairly well satisfied with 
it. Exhibitors were complaining — as ex- 
hibitors frequently are, for that matter — 
but it did them no good. The people 
with new ideas did not have the studios 
and the people with the studios didn’t have 
the ideas — or not enough of them anyway. 

There was danger that the motion pic- 
ture, having progressed in a few years from 
an experiment to an established industry, 
might stop there. Had it done so, its 
artistic development would have undoubt- 
edly been delayed for years, and the pic- 
ture business, as it is today, would not 
have existed. 

Into this situation, stepped, — or rather, 
fell — Levee. 



44 



H IS personal story, like many others on 
the Hollywood lots, is remarkable. 
He was born in Chicago, sent himself 
through school by selling newspapers and 
conducting a boys’ orchestra, and began 
drawing an office clerk’s salary when he 
was 16. At 21, he had $1,000 saved up, 
and, coming to Los Angeles with an uncle, 
put it into an installment cloak and suit 
business. 

By 1917, the firm was doing a tremen- 
dous business, and Levee, married, was liv- 
ing in an expensive apartment and driving 
a high-priced car. He became interested 
in pictures through his wife, who had 
brief ambitions to become an actress, and 
took a furlough from his installment busi- 
ness to become an assistant prop man at 
$20 a week in the Fox studios. What he 
saw persuaded him that the picture busi- 
ness offered an easy highroad to success, 
and he finally sold out his other interests 
with the intention of getting into it. 

On a trip to San Francisco, he picked up 
an idea for a picture based on the Mooney 
trial. He secured the promise of financial 
backing from wealthy labor sympathizers, 
and returned to Los Angeles with the in- 
tention of becoming a producer. It was 
to secure studio space that he visited the 
Paralta on the momentous day which was 
to determine not only his personal future 
but, to a calculable degree, that of indepen- 
dent motion pictures. 

The Paralto had failed as a producing 
lot. It was heavily in debt. It’s owners 
were in Milwaukee, and had made the 
agreement with Mr. Brunton as a sort of 
last hope. Levee knew he could not fi- 
nance a producing studio, but he thought 
he saw a way by which the Paralta could 
be saved from attachment, and turned into 
a profitable leasing lot. 

His own experience in searching for a 
studio where he could stage a production 
had shown him there was need for some- 
thing of the kind. In addition, he had 
read in the newspapers a few days before 
that Mary Pickford and Douglas Fair- 
banks had split with Famous and announc- 
ed their intention of producing their own 
pictures. 

Perhaps Mr. Levee can himself best dis- 
cuss this phase of the matter. 

“It all came to me in a moment,” he 
said the other day in his luxurious offices 
on the present twenty-seven and a half acre 
United lot. “There was nothing in sight 
except some muddy ground, a lot of scat- 
tered lumber, and a couple of stages. But 
I visioned a real leasing studio, big enough 
to handle any kind of production and with 
the facilities to handle every detail of it. 
I could almost see the completed project. 
I saw all the immense advantages of such 
a scheme from the standpoint of both the 
studio and the producer. 

“I remembered what I had read about 
Mary Pickford and Fairbanks. From my 
own experience, I knew there were a lot 
of other ambitious actors and actresses who 



Director 

could easily get financial backing to make 
their own pictures if they only had a place 
to produce them. I realized they had no 
chance while the big producers owned the 
studios. What the independents needed 
was a chance. I made up my mind right 
there that I was going to give it to them.” 

It was the urge of a dream — but it was 
a dream that was destined to become true. 

That night, the future president of the 
first independent leasing studio in the 
world, got the Milwaukee owners of Pa- 
ralta on the telephone and made an agree- 
ment with them by which they put up 
one-third of money due the creditors on 
condition that he should take care of the 
rest within a comparatively short period. 
Relieved of the sheriff, and aided by the 
credit he had established here, Levee man- 
aged the rest of the financing without dif- 
ficulty. 

In a few months, the Paralta producing 
studios were a memory, and the Robert 
Brunton Studios, jointly owned by Levee 
and the former I nee art director, was mak- 
ing a successful debut as an independent 
leasing lot. 

P ART of Levee’s dream had been that 
Mary Pickford would be his first ten- 
ant, and he proceeded to realize it. At the 
moment, she was considering the purchase 
of a studio as the first step in her program 
of independence. It would have been an 
ambitious step, and perhaps ruinous finan- 
cially. 

Levee went to Miss Pickford. He out- 
lined his whole plan for a big leasing lot, 
capable of fulfilling every demand of a 
major production. He pointed out what 
an immense advantage such a studio would 
be, not only to her, but to every other 
actor or director with ambitions beyond the 
salaried routine. He appealed to her, not 
only on the ground of economy and serv- 
ice, but those of a high idealism. 

Miss Pickford still wavered. Then 
Levee played his trump card. He pro- 
duced the plan of a bungalow. At that 
time, such a thing as a star’s dressing-room 
bungalow on the lot was undreamed of. 

“Why,” he said, “I’ve even had this bun- 
galow designed for you. It goes with your 
lease whenever you are ready to start.” 
The bungalow, drawn and designed the 
previous day by Jack Okey, art director of 
the studio, proved the deciding factor. 
Miss Pickford signed, and the next day 
the bungalow was going up. It is still on 
the lot and is now used by Norma and 
Constance Talmadge. 

In a few months, Miss Pickford’s exam- 
ple had been followed by others. The stu- 
dio boomed. Sets were smaller in those 
days, and, at one time, there were eleven 
companies working on the two stages. But, 
as business increased, Mr. Levee’s diffi- 
culties began. 

“You see,” he said, in discussing this 
phase of the situation, “we were pioneers. 



November 

If there were any mistakes to be made, we 
made them. 

“In nearly any business, you have pre- 
cedent to guide you. But we were a 
new thing in a new field, and we had to 
solve all our problems on the spot. 

“The more tenants we got, the more 
problems there were. We started with a 
small mechanical department ; in a few 
months it had tripled. 

“I had made up my mind that, no mat- 
ter how impossible a tenant’s request might 
seem, the studio would produce it. Now, 
it’s simple. Nine times out of ten, we 
either have it in our big prop department, 
or we can make it right on the lot. But, in 
those days, it often required a lot of pa- 
tience and ingenuity. 

“Costs had to be estimated, and some- 
times we went wrong. But we made pro- 
gress anyway. The need of an indepen- 
dent leasing studio was great and when you 
fill a real need, you don’t have to worry 
about your eventual success.” 

Perhaps the first big vindication of the 
importance of an independent lot to the 
motion picture industry as a whole came 
with the George Loane Tucker production 
of The Miracle Man. 

The Miracle Man, as everyone conver- 
sant with pictures knows, established new 
standards of production. It was the sort 
of departure which only an independent 
producer would have made. Mr. Levee 
still looks back on it as one of the big 
steps in the fulfillment of his dream. 

In 1918, the studio had grown so that 
it was compelled to lease thirteen and one 
half acres next to the ten acres on which 
the Paralta had stood. In this same year, 
came the first serious setback. There was 
a depression in pictures, and the big pro- 
ducers, in an effort to make both ends meet, 
began leasing space to the independents 
themselves. 

But it did not endure. The producers 
soon found that the demands of the resi- 
dent organizations weighed too heavily 
against their own. Several who had left 
came back, and the business continued to 
grow. 

An important factor, too, in meeting 
this competition, was the manner in which 
the studio had continued to build up its or- 
ganization and facilities. It added a plan- 
ing mill to its mechanical department. It 
laid the first concrete streets inside any 
studio in the world. It was the first studio 
to employ 3-ply veneer flats instead of 
compo hoard for its sets. It built new 
stages, new dressing-rooms, new executive 
offices. It raised its property department 
to the point where it could compete with 
any in the city, and then to the point where 
none can compete with it. And, under 
all difficulties, it adhered strictly to Levee’s 
precept that nothing was impossible if a 
client wanted it. 

(Continued on Page 56) 



1925 



©irector 



45 




PEAKING of fish stories 

An interesting yarn has leaked out 
from one of the big studios regarding a 
whale. According to the story as told with 
many reiterations that names must not be 
used, the property department of this w.k. 
studio was called upon to produce a whale 
for a whaling sequence. With memories 
of The Lost H'orld and similar produc- 
tions in mind, props turned to and fash- 
ioned a life-sized whale of rubber composi- 
tion — a realistic replica of the monsters of 
the deep, fitted with mechanical devices 
operating a concealed propeller to provide 
motive force. Something like $20,000 is 
said to have been expended and with great 
eclat the “whale” was taken to deep water 
to do its stuff. Now natural historians 
tell us that a whale, while not a fish at all 
but belonging to the animal kingdom, 
spends much of its time on the surface, but 
frequently dives to great depths. This one 
did. It dived as soon as it was launched 
and the dern thing wouldn’t come up. Ac- 
cording to latest reports it is still a denizen 
of the deep while efficiency experts at the 
w.k. studio are tearing their hair at the 
wastage of the thousands of dollars it is 
reported to have cost. 

* * * 

S HOOTING in technicolor is reported 
to be an expensive process and every 
precaution is being taken at the Pickford- 
Fairbanks studio to avoid retakes and ex- 
cessive footage, all of which developed in- 
teresting angles during the shooting of a 
water scene in Doug’s new picture The 
Block Pirate. According to the script one 
of the band of bold bad pirates is supposed 
to jump overboard and swim to the shore 
where the cameras were stationed — four 
of them — to register the scene. He 
jumped all right but, while the cameras 
clicked off the footage, failed to reappear. 
Minutes passed and still the bobbing head 
of the swimmer didn’t enter the angle of 
the camera lenses. Finally he bobbed up 
and to the pleading and commands that 
he come out of the water, replied “I can’t. 
I lost my pants,” and with that he dived 



again in his mad search for masculine rai- 
ment. So far as history states he is still 
there searching for his pants. 

* * * 

I N fact many interesting things are devel- 
oping at the Pickford-Fairbanks lot in 
the shooting of The Black Pirate. Realism 
has been developed to such an extent in the 
shooting of several scenes wherein skeleton 
fragments of pirate ships are being used to 
create the desired illusion, that the hy- 
draulic rocking of the ships to simulate 
heavy weather has proved too much for 
numerous members of the crew by develop- 
ing accute attacks of mal de mere. 

But realism isn’t by any means confined 
to hydraulically operated ships that rock 
and roll and pitch on a sea of sand and 
rocks. Certain scenes were being shot at 
Los Angeles harbor aboard the full-rigged 
ship the Lleivelyn J. Morse when a fifty- 
mile gale sprang up, snapped the current 
lines and threatened to blow the Morse out 
to sea. The pirate band while good actors 
all, were not sailors and didn’t know what 
in heck to do. Upper and lower tops’ls 
were all set and the Morse was just rarin’ 
to go. Nobody knew enough about reefing 
the expanse of sail, according to reports, 
and there they were pulling on ropes until 
their hands were torn and bleeding, strug- 
gling manfully to “save the ship.” Finally 
by dint of hauling the yards aback they 
managed to get her nose headed into the 
wind until a tug came up and took them 
in tow. 

And an added touch of realism was given 
when, instead of blowing up a miniature 
“in a bath tub”, Doug took advantage of 
the stranding of the lumber schooner 
Muriel on the bar at the entrance to New- 
port Bay and arranged to blow it out of 
the water. Accordingly the Muriel was 
worked over to resemble a galleon of the 
1 7 th century and blown up as a sequence 
in the filming of The Black Pirate, afford- 
ing genuine realism and at the same time 
removing a menace to commerce and solv- 
ing an accute problem for the owners of the 
derelict. 



S CREEN comedy usually attains to the 
heights of laugh-provoking humor 
after the film has been edited and titled 
and it is rare that gag scenes are as funny 
at the time they are being shot. But ac- 
cording to Arthur Hagerman Fred Guiol 
had a heck of a time out at the Hal Roach 
studios trying to shoot a scene in a new 
comedy in which Tyler Brooke and George 
Cooper have a partnership gag which 
caused all kinds of trouble. 

According to the story as related by 
Hagerman, Brooke is supposed to be a re- 
formed crook. Cooper is his unreformed 
buddy, whose soul he is trying to save at 
all costs. About one-third of the scenes 
shot are of Brooke looking at Cooper and 
pleading with him to “go straight”. The 
humor of the scenes lies in just how much 
pathos and sadness they can get into these 
closeups — and many a closeup has been 
spoiled by both of them breaking into 
laughter right in the middle of the action. 

After a fine assortment of silverware and 
jewelry had dropped out of Cooper’s sleeves 
and trousers while Brooke was pleading 
with him, the whole troupe broke out 
laughing and spoiled the scene. The same 
stunt was repeated several times. Finally 

Brooke veiled at Guiol and his staff 

“If you men can keep your minds on 
your jobs for about one minute and not 
laugh at this gag, we can get it over. We 
don’t want an audience, what we want is 
silence.” 

•sfc ■=£ 

fi /CHURCHILL MARMADUKE”, 
V_> read the card presented Fred 
Schuessler, casting director at Universal. 

“Sit down Mr. Marmaduke,” said 
Schuessler, “What can I do for you?” 
Marmaduke settled himself comfortably. 
He was one of the fast-disappearing type of 
old-time Shakespearean players, a bit tat- 
tered, but still maintaining his dignity. 

“I came to see if perhaps you had a place 
in your company for one who has played 
MacBeth, King Lear, Othello and all the 
other great gentry of the stage,” boomed 




46 



N ovember 



Director 



out the deep voice of the tragedian, “My 
price is $50.” 

Schuessler regretted he had no opening. 
Then he remembered that Edward Sedg- 
wick was calling for Indians for his Hearts 
of the West. 

“I can make you an Indian at $25,” said 
Schuessler. 

“An Indian at $25,” roared the old ac- 
tor, “Sorry sir, but I cannot accept.” 

As he neared the door, the veteran 
stopped. 

“My price, sir,” he said, “is $50. I 
cannot play an Indian for $25, but I will 
agree to go on as a half-breed at that price.” 

* * * 

With the recent death of Eugene San- 
dow, in London, Joe Bonomo claims to 
be the undisputed strong man of the world. 
While age had somewhat weakened the 
iron muscles of Sandow, Bonomo’s claim 
to the title of the world’s strongest human 
was contested while Sandow lived, but with 
his passing, the Universal star now be- 
lieves that he is rightfully the holder of 
the title. He is willing to compete for 

the honor with any strong man. 

* * * 

P ATSY RUTH MILLER has been 
having lot of fun with her newly shin- 
gled thatch of hair. She has been regarded 
as a staunch defender of lengthy locks for 
so long that falling beneath the bobber’s 
shears has brought consternation. 

Just after the clipping, hatted in a neat 
little felt, she made a personal appearance 
with other stars at a benefit fashion show, 
and the man who introduced the stars ten- 
dered a deft compliment on the wisdom of 
Pat’s retaining her individuality by keep- 
ing her long hair. He concluded by ask- 
ing Pat to give a few words on why she 
never bobbed her tresses. 

Pat was at a loss for a moment — but not 
for long. She swept her hat off and stood 
in the glory of her new shingle bob. 

“I haven’t a thing to say!” declared Pat, 

and the audience howled. 

* * * 

A LTHOUGH studio gatemen in the 
„ film capitol are no longer fooled by 
the clever disguises of actors, it remained 
for Charlotte Mineau, featured player with 
Mary Pickford in Scraps to “put one over” 
on the casting director at the Pickford- 
Fairbanks lot. 

When Miss Mineau was being consid- 
ered for the role she is now playing the 
well-known c.d. voiced a protest against 
the signing of Charlotte for the part, claim- 
ing that she was “too darn attractive” to 
essay the character of an old hag. The 
following day, while the matter was still 
under discussion, a slovenly old woman 
walked in on the conference and demanded 
an immediate interview with the casting 
director. Indignantly, the c.d. ordered 
that the wretch be ‘given the air’ and it 
was than that Miss Mineau revealed her 
identity and affixed her signature to the 
coveted contract. 



ACCORDING to Pete Smith at 
1\ M-G-M the surest way to analyze 
the fundamental traits of star characteris- 
tics is to note the type of music they want 
played off scene, as for instance: 

Lillian Gish, at work on La Boherne, 
prefers pensive classics; Raff’s “Vavatina,” 
the Berceuse from “Jocelyn,” Gounod’s 
“Ave Maria” and the “Racconto Del Ru- 
dulpho” from La Boheme are most fre- 
quently heard. 

Mae Murray, starring under Christy 
Cabanne’s direction in The Masked Bride, 
is a dancer. Strains with striking rythm 
are her inspiration. A jazz orchestra 
plays music that is heavily punctuated by 
tympanii ; — “Lulu,” for instance. 

Norma Shearer reacts to violins; — “Trau- 
merei,” Rubinstein’s “Melody in F” and 
Kreisler’s “Olden Melody” are among 
her favorites. Pauline Starke likes modern 
comic operas; — and Gilbert and Sullivan. 
Lew Cody prefers airs from the French 
operas; — “Thais,” “Louise,” and “La Na- 
varraise.” 

* * ^ 

W HEN Rupert Julian wants certain 
music for a scene he is directing he 
doesn’t depend on the limited repertoire 
of the three-piece “orchestra” playing on 
his set, he just sits down to the little ol’ 
piano and knocks out his own love song 
or whatever is demanded. He was direct- 
ing a scene for Three Faces East on the 
DeMille lot the other day and did his own 
pinch-hitting when a particularly touching 
melody was required. Old Man Overhead 
chalked up just ten minutes to Julian while 
he knocked out a tune that would have 
made Beethoven or Wagner green with 
envy. You may not see it in the pictures 
but you’ll see Walthall, Clive Brooke and 
Jetta Goudal emoting to its strains. 

* * * 

B ECAUSE Norma Shearer’s brother, 
Douglas, used to be a radio fan — and 
used to practice all day with the “code”, 
Miss Shearer has been able to cast dis- 
comfiture into the souls of two very clever 
youths. 

The boys, evidently amateur wireless en- 
thusiastic, were looking in a store window 
and carrying on a conversation by whist- 
ling; — that is, whistling the dots and 
dashes of the code, as is often done by op- 
erators. 

The Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer star stood 
regarding them for a moment. One of the 
boys whistled a rather risque remark. 

“Lobster”, whistled Miss Shearer in 

code, and walked away, leaving two flab- 
bergasted youths staring after her. 

* * * 

Postal authorities, even in foreign lands, 
have their picture fans as was proved by the 
postcard Mae Murray received at the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios after it had 
traveled from Japan to Washington, Wash- 



ington to New York, thence back to Cali- 
fornia to the studios where she was being 
starred in The Masked Bride. 

Pasted on it, in lieu of an address was 
her photo — nothing more. It was signed 
“From a Japanese admirer.” 

The Japanese postal authorities recog- 
nized the photo and forwarded the card to 
the Postmaster General’s office at Wash- 
ington; there it was sent to New York, 
where her whereabouts was ascertained and 
the card forwarded to the studios at Culver 
City. Which shows that Miss Murray’s 
face is not without fame 

* * * 

P ROBABLY the meanest actors before 
a camera are the alligators rented to 
picture companies by an alligator farm near 
Los Angeles. 

Seven of the beasts were used this week 
in Mary Pickford’s Scraps. While Miss 
Pickford is leading nine little children 
through the swamp, they are suddenly con- 
fronted with the alligators. 

The making of the scenes was extremely 
dangerous, and the greatest care was taken 
to protect Miss Pickford and the children, 
as well as the workmen who handled the 
animals. 

During one scene an alligator suddenly 
snapped at H. F. Carney, one of the cam- 
eramen. Carney was deep in the mud, and 
could not move his boots. So he slipped 
out of the one nearest the alligator, and 
made his escape to shore in his stocking 
foot. 

Crack shots with rifles were stationed 
just outside the range of the cameramen. 

T HOLTGH accustomed to every sort 
of costume from Roman togas to the 
rags of Lear, Tyrone Power, celebrated 
character actor, donned his first Indian at- 
tire in the Alan Hale production of Brave- 
heart, starring Rod La Rocque. Particu- 
larly dismaying were the Indian leggings 
which, as every westerner should know, 
cover the redskin’s legs, but not his south- 
ern facade. It was on the heels of this dis- 
covery, the first morning on location, that 
Mr. Power, summoned before Alan Hale 
after an hour’s delay, which he spent sulk- 
ing within his dressing-tent, stalked ma- 
jestically forth, an injured look in his eagle 
eye. 

“What’s been keeping you Tyrone?” in- 
quired Hale, glancing with approval at his 
chief’s costume which was, at the moment, 
on display from the front. 

The mighty chieftain blushed a delicate 
pink under his Duco finish. 

“Most extr’ordin’ry,” he complained 
nervously, “Extr’ ordin’ry mistake some- 
where, Alan. Some imbecile has given me 
a pair of trousers without a seat,” and he 
turned on his heel for inspection as the 
Order was restored immediately after 
lunch. 



19 25 



motion Menu* 

director 



47 



Exploitation 



By The Boulevard Reporter 



U\J7 HAT is the exhibitor’s slant on 
V V the exploitation material which 
under the present method ema- 
nates from the New York office of the dis- 
tributing company handling a picture — a 
picture that in all probability was made 
here in Hollywood?” 

I asked that question casually of an 
exploitation man handling a group of 
neighborhood houses. His reply w-as 
aplenty and started a train of thought that 
led me to get a few more slants. 

According to his views the principal ex- 
ploitation material received is contained in 
the press sheet and he asked, “Why give 
us a press sheet at all? We fellows who 
are handling neighborhood houses in sub- 
urban communities haven’t much use for a 
press sheet. The newspapers can’t give 
us much space and what space they do give 
us has to do double duty for the house and 
the picture. The big fellows can get their 
stuff across because they buy advertising 
space, and they usually have a well-organ- 
ized publicity department to work up pub- 
licity and exploitation angles. 

“What we want,” this chap went on to 
say, “are exploitation suggestions, stunts 
that can be worked and that have been 
figured out from a practical angle ; not a 
bunch of half-baked theories that either 
have no box office pulling power, or else 
are so hoary with age that they can 
scarcely stand, let alone do anv effective 
work.” 

What is a press sheet, anyway? 

I went to a publicity man — an old-time 
advertising man, one who has been in the 
game “since its infancy” — and I asked him 
what it was all about. 

“Is this for publication?” he replied. 

I assured him that it was and he closed 
up like a clam. Nothing doing. So I 
tried him on another tack. “Well, sup- 
pose I don’t make it a direct quotation or 
don’t use your name, how about it?” 

“Oh, well, in that case — ” 

Anyway, he came through with some 
more slants on the subject and once I 
had assured him that I wouldn’t use his 
name, he talked quite freely. According 
to his viewpoint the press sheet as now 
constructed is neither a press sheet worth 
a tinker’s hooray to the newspaper editor 
to whom it is supposed to be taken with 
the assurance to the exhibitor that the said 
editor will glean therefrom the stories he 



wants to run about the production of 
“Blah Blah” at the Oompah Theatre, nor 
is it an effective exploitation sheet. 

This tied in with what I had gotten 
from the exhibitors with whom I had casu- 
ally talked. 

“The trouble is that the New York of- 
fice takes the stuff we write for publicity 
purposes and practically all of which has 
already been sent out pretty generally 
throughout the country, and works it over 
into a press sheet,” he went on. “But in- 
stead of making it an effective compilation 
of interesting news items, New York be- 
comes obsessed with the idea that the darn 
thing ought to do double duty and that 
here’s a wonderful chance to sell the exhibi- 
tor on the picture. Result — a hybrid prod- 
uct that usually fails of either objective. 
Something more is genuinely needed, just 
what I am not wholly sure right now.” 

H ERE was a live lead that seemed to 
possess interesting possibilities and, 
looking for a constructive angle to the sit- 
uation I trotted over to the De Luxe The- 
atre to see Jed Buell and get his slants on 
the thing. 

I picked on Jed Buell because he had 
impressed me as a live-wire exploitation 
man, an impression that had been height- 
ened by the fact that during the past few 
months he has grabbed off three first prizes 
for exhibitor exploitation, two national 
prizes offered by Carl Laemmle and one 
local prize. Incidentally, he holds the rec- 
ord for being the only exhibitor to capture 
two first prizes in succession and, accord- 
ing to Fred J. McConnell, general sales 
manager for Universal, he “leads the coun- 
try in U prize awards.” Besides, from him 
I felt reasonably sure I would get the ex- 
hibitor slant that I wanted. 

I found him in his cubby hole over the 
box office figuring out stunts for his next 
picture and having him effectively in a 
corner, put my original question to him: 
“Jed, what’s your slant on the effective- 
ness of the exploitation material which, 
under the present method, you receive 
through the exchange?” 

“Well, I’ll tell you,” he began — that’s 
the way they usually come back when you 
ask a direct question — “that’s something 
that I have been thinking about a good bit 
lately and here is the hunch that I have 
on the situation : The press sheet is about 



all we get from the exchange nowadays 
and we’ve got to dig our exploitation ideas 
out of that. But they aren’t there. What 
I think is the answer to the whole darn 
thing is the creation of a new department, 
in the production office, something in the 
nature of an exploitation gag man, if you 
get what I mean. 

“I don’t mean to imply that the pub- 
licity departments aren’t competent to turn 
out exploitation stuff, but as I see it, look- 
ing at things from the outside, of course, 
and from the exhibitor’s angle, the pub- 
licity man has his hands full publicizing 
the production and the cast. It seems to 
me that there should be a separate depart- 
ment, functioning in association with the 
publicity department, if you like, but 
strictly responsible for just one thing — ex- 
ploitation ideas for the exhibitor, who after 
all is the one who has to sell the picture 
to the ultimate consumer. The man for 
such a department would appear to me to 
be a chap who combines the instincts, 
training and inventiveness of a publicity 
man with the experience of an exhibitor. 

(( PERHAPS one trouble lies in the fact 
Jl that exploitation angles are developed 
in New York and not on the lot where 
the picture is made, or in the center of 
production where it is previewed and an- 
alyzed before final cutting and editing. It 
seems to me that there is where many 
ideas for exploitation can be developed. I 
know that I personally get many ideas 
during a preview for exploiting a produc- 
tion that I am reasonably sure is coming 
back to me later on regular booking. 

“As it is now, the main asset of the 
press sheet lies in the fact that it contains 
the cast of players appearing in the pro- 
duction, and I believe that the average 
exhibitor will agree with me in this. 

“If we could only have some originality 
in our exploitation, some carefully worked 
out stunts that can be pulled — stunts that 
are really practical, not the cut and dried 
stuff that is dished out to us as a general 
thing. Producers are always hollering for 
the ‘surprise twist’ and the box office angle 
in the stories selected for filming. We 
need some surprise twists and box office 
angles in our exploitation material. Stunts 
that will pique the interest and curiosity 
of our patrons and which will tie in with 
the picture so that they won’t feel that 



48 



November 



©irector 



they have been tricked into coming to the 
theatre only to be fooled again. 

“You can’t fool ’em all the time and get 
away with it. 

"But we don’t get the surprise twist. 
Usually the predominating note is a tie-up 
of some sort, usually with a proposition 
more national than local. For instance, a 
very common suggestion is a Gloria Smith 
tie-up with Mine. Velma’s Facial Cream 
or hokum of that sort. Ten chances to 
twelve Mme. Velma gets $3 or $4 a jar 
for her marvelous stuff and very seldom is 
it sold outside of New York or the bigger 
cities. What good is such a tie-up for the 
average neighborhood house in suburban 
community? 

“Here is a suggestion that appeared in 
the alleged live-wire ‘Putting It Over’ 
column in the press sheet on one of our 
current attractions: 

“ ‘Load a truck with a small band of 
six or seven pieces and a mounted wax 
figure of the star, and parade this through 
the streets adjacent to your theatre. This 
makes a great flash — a wonderful ballyhoo 
— and will pull the people into your the- 
atre.’ 

“Now that’s a real novel idea and a big 
help to the showman, isn’t it? It was 
probably used in the days of Caesar, but 
they hand us such suggestions as this as 
bubbling over with originality. 

aiTVERYWHERE else the motion 
r j picture industry has made wonder- 
ful strides. Directorial genius has created 
many marvelous productions. Motion pic- 
tures photography has become a distinct 



art. But when we reach the press sheet, 
things take an awful slump. Money is 
spent lavishly for stories and in production, 
but when it comes to selling the picture to 
the ultimate consumer, cut and dried ho- 
kum is ground out by the yard in lieu of 
sure-enough exhibitor aids which will 
bring money into the box office and in- 
creased business for exchange and producer. 

“Exploitation is a problem that stares 
every exhibitor in the face today. Few 
productions will win at the box office with- 
out it. This is particularly true of the 
smaller houses, which, unlike the down- 
town theatres with their greater capacity 
and longer runs, have no money to spend 
on exploitation.” 

“H ow about the contests in which you 
won first prizes, did you get away without 
expenditure there?” I interjected. 

“You bet I did,” Buell answered; “I 
had to. In putting over the exploitation 
on The Riddle Rider, for instance, the 
stunt that won me my first national prize 
in the Laemmle contests, I spent practi- 
cally nothing. Here’s an illustration: I 

needed something to act as flaming red 
bandannas for the thirteen program boys 
whom I had dressed as cowboy's and 
mounted in broomsticks for a ballyhoo. 
Ten cents worth of red crepe paper from 
the corner drug store did the trick. 

“But to go back to the press sheet,” 
Buell added, shying away from the ex- 
ploitation of his own exploitation, “one of 
the big stunts that is suggested in almost 
every press sheet is that of window dis- 
plays. But that has been done so much 
that it has lost all its kick and only when 
there is a particularly effective tie-up is a 



window display of any great value. You’ve 
got to keep handing the public something 
new and that is what I am hollering for. 
The producer realizes it when he searches 
for new story material. The director real- 
izes it when he seeks for the new angles 
to be injected in the script. The gag man 
realizes it when he is working out new 
gags that will add punch or humor to the 
production. 

“Why don’t they give us exploitation 
gags that are planned as carefully and as 
exclusively for the production in question 
as the gag man works out his stuff? 

“I really believe that the whole answer 
to this problem will come when something 
like an exploitation gag man is developed 
to work out the exploitation angles of a 
production and nothing else. 

“Of course I appreciate that we fellows 
on this end of the game are expected to use 
some brains in devising new stunts to fit 
our particular needs and to sell our houses 
and our productions to our patrons. But 
I do believe that it is entirely equitable 
for us to expect more direct help in adver- 
tising each individual production than we 
are now getting. Changing pictures at 
least twice a week, as most of us do, some- 
times three and four times, we haven’t 
much opportunity to work out stunts for 
pictures that nine times out of ten we 
won’t see until they appear on our screens. 
During the production period and when 
the picture is being previewed, when the 
exhibitor advertising is being planned and 
the paper is being laid out — that’s the 
time when real exploitation angles can be 
developed and tested and relayed to us on 
the firing line.” 




'mmm 



Photo by Moss 



Sunset at Santa Monica 



1925 



©irector 



49 



I 



S the motion picture indus- 
try a closed shop and does 
“Who do you know?” 
constitute the only open sesame? 

Apparently that is the view 
point held by many who seek 
their careers within its ranks 
as witness this letter from a 
reader of The Director, the 
answer to which, because of the 
generality of the question, has been pre- 
pared by members of the editorial staff: 

Editor, The Director: 

In your last issue of The Director you 
ask for ideas and comment upon things that 
concern the motion picture industry. May I 
ask a question — What is the relation of 
higher education as at present expressed in 
the universities to motion pictures? Do the 
heads of this field encourage college men and 
ideas, or is entrance into the motion picture 
field limited to — Who do you know? 

I know of a history professor with un- 
limited experience in the field of research, 
two Oxford men, a specialist in the field of 
costume design and origin and a great many 
degree holders from universities of the West, 
all of whom have found little or no encour- 
agement, each telling the same story: that 
motion pictures are a closed industry. 

I myself have had much the same experi- 
ence. After studying with the express pur- 
pose of motion pictures in view, I have for 
some time been following promises that lead 
but to other promises, blind alleys and offi- 
cious office boys. 

This is not a crank letter, for I love the 
work and being young can still manage to 
more or less subsist on dreams and odd jobs 
and continue to like it. But motion pictures 
being one of the largest industries in exist- 
ence must eventually have trained men of 
theoretical background as well as practical 
experience. To the point — 

It has been proven by a great many cor- 
porations that the conducting of courses in 
the line of practical experience over the 
various phases of their industry more than 
pays for itself by securing thereby executives 
who fit their job. This method is based 
merely on taking promising young men, pay- 
ing them enough to subsist on and giving 
them a few months of intensive training in 
various departments, thus getting a certain 
amount of work at a cheaper price than be- 
fore in addition to finding to what line 
various individuals are best suited. At the 
end of this period the student is either em- 
ployed, if he has made good, or all relations 
terminated. Incidentally it has given the 
student a wedge with which to dig himself 
in and has supplied a source of new blood 
for the corporation, thus benefiting employ- 
ers as well as employe. 

Could not some deviation of this be put 
into practice by the larger producing com- 
panies ? 

D.W.C., Hollywood. 



T HE evident sincerity of D.W.C. in 
asking his questions and presenting 
what he conceives to be a constructive 
criticism, accompanied, as most constructive 
criticisms are, by a remedial suggestion, 
generates a desire to try and answer his 
query as fairly and as completely as pos- 
sible. 

In drawing his parallel between the 
motion picture industry and others of a 
commercial nature, D.W.C. has in a meas- 
ure answered his own question, for speak- 



The Directory 

A source of authentic 
information concerning 
the making of ep- 
« Motion Pictures " 



ing generally the attitude of the motion 
picture industry toward new blood and 
toward men of educational attainments is 
much the same as that of any other large 
industry. 

New blood and educational attainments 
are always welcome and are constantly be- 
ing sought. But as do other large indus- 
tries the motion picture industry prefers 
that when a man of specific educational 
attainments is brought into the industry 
one of two conditions shall exist : Either 
that such a man be a specialist in some 
particular field for which the industry 
needs highly specialized knowledge, or that 
he have, in addition to his educational back- 
ground either some experience in the dra- 
matic field or an understanding of the pe- 
culiar requirements of the industry and a 
sympathy for the silent drama. 

No more than any other are motion pic- 
tures a closed industry. But like most 
other enterprises entry, excepting through 
the door of experience, is difficult, particu- 
larly so to the man who because he has 
made a specialized study of some particular 
field, or because he has achieved the degrees 
of higher education, is impelled to the 
belief that he should step into a responsible 
and well-paying position by virtue of those 
attainments. 

Because a man of such qualifications may 
happen to have friends, relatives or inti- 
mate acquaintances holding responsible po- 
sitions in the industry and thereby may be 
given an opportunity to demonstrate his 
value is not necessarily a sufficient reason 
for declaring that the motion picture indus- 
try is closed excepting to those who have 
“pull”. The same is true of any industry. 
Opportunity is sometimes made for some 
individuals, others make their own, But 
in any industry the surest mode of entrance 
is that which is expressed by “beginning at 
the bottom.” 

However there is one factor of the mo- 
tion picture equation which is peculiar to 
this industry: The fact that it is in all 
probability the most popular line of activity 
in our modern business world, — the most 
romantic, the most alluring and the most 
attractive profession in the world. Result : 
Everybody and his brother wants to break 
into it. Figuratively and literally they 
want to “break in” for nine out of every 
ten applicants who apply for positions seek 
to crash to the top overnight. 

Now all this invokes the immutable law 
of supply and demand. With the gates of 



the motion picture industry be- 
ing besieged by thousands de- 
manding and beseeching en- 
trance, the supply of available 
material is grossly in excess of 
the actual demand. Employ- 
ment offices of the studios are 
swamped with talent of all 
sorts. Under such circum- 
stances experience is natur- 
ally given the preference over theoretical 
knowledge. It is human nature to follow 
the line of least resistence. And yet the stu- 
dios are not at all unmindful of the im- 
portance of training new blood. Exempli- 
fication of this fact is found in the establish- 
ment of schools for the training of special- 
ized workers by Universal, Paramount 
and other large producing organizations. 

The motion picture industry has no 
quarrel with higher education, nor does it 
discourage college men and college ideas. 
Both are welcome, particularly ideas, for 
the motion picture industry is essentially 
creative. But somehow ideas based on 
theory or evolved from without the indus- 
try by people who have had no practical 
experience in the field of the silent drama 
seem consistently to fail through lack of 
understanding of the principles involved. 

In the matter of research, not only does 
each studio maintain a highly developed re- 
search department of its own with specially 
trained men and women of education and 
experience in charge, but there have grown 
up as adjuncts to the industry research or- 
ganizations who specialize in accumulating 
accurate data on all sorts of subjects. In 
addition when special knowledge in any 
one subject, historical or otherwise, is re- 
quired that knowledge is sought from the 
most authentic source attainable. 

It might be well for D.W.C. to con- 
sider that the production program of each 
studio in the space of a comparatively few 
months will cover a wide range of diversi- 
fied subjects. One unit may be producing 
a story of Ancient Rome and follow im- 
mediately with a story of the South Seas 
and again with a modern society drama, 
an epic of the old West or a story of the 
French revolution. It is the business of 
the research department to provide on 
short notice all the essential data and facts 
necessary to build sets, design costumes and 
plan the atmosphere of the locale in which 
action of the story is laid. It is rare that 
specialized knowledge on any one subject 
is required with a degree of regularity to 
warrant the retention of such a history pro- 
fessor as D.W.C. refers to, for presumably, 
being a history professor he has specialized 
on that subject, and equally as presumable 
is the assumption that he has specialized on 
some specific period in the history of the 
world. 

After all, regrettable as it may seem 
from an idealistic point of view, the atti- 
tude of the business world of today is not 
“What can we do for you?” but “What 
can you do for us?” The motion picture 
industry is no exception. 



November 



50 




GOERZ 

Film Raw Stock 

NEGATIVE 

POSITIVE 

PANCHROMATIC 

y? 

Sole Distributors 

FISH-SCHURMAN 

CORPORATION 

WEST COAST OFFICE 
1050 Cahuenga Ave. 

Los Angeles California 

Telephone GLadstone 9805 



©i rector 

DIRECTING 
HAROLD LLOYD 

(Continued from Page 14) 

gag-man into his own and the introduction 
of men of this type into the dramatic lots. 
Every studio of any consequence today 
has one or more gag-men whose sole func- 
tion it is to furnish gags to be injected into 
dramatic stories. The improvement in 
comedies has taught audiences to laugh; the 
producers have recognized this fact and, 
like all good businessmen, they are endeav- 
oring to satisfy their customers’ demands. 

The result has been a growing homo- 
geneity of motion pictures — not a sameness, 
but a closer kinship. It is the same march 
of events which can be traced in the history 
of any other art-expression. There will 
always be a small number of out-and-out 
melodramas and, at the other extreme, 
downright farces, but the in-between group 
of pictures is growing in volume with this 
increasing kinship — and rightly so, because 
it means we are giving our audiences 
worth-while entertainment with a proper 
admixture of comedy and drama. The 
small circle of directors and producers who 
have already recognized the fact of this 
artistic progress on the screen is reaping a 
just reward and, in this case at least, the 
tendency to follow-the-leader will be bene- 
ficial to all concerned. 



CUSTOMS AND 

COSTUMES 

(Continued from Page 21) 

popularity of the comic opera from which 
the picture has been adapted and the musi- 
cal theme which accompanies it and The 
Merry M'idow is another of the exceptions 
that prove the rule. 

In the category of costume plays one 
must perforce include allegories and fan- 
tasies. The same basic principles that ap- 
ply to the period play apply here as well 
and to an even greater extent. 

In the old days the illusive possibilities 
of the camera prompted the production of 
many allegorical subjects, productions 
which in practically every instance failed 
of success as box office attractions. The 
element of realism as understood by the 
American public was lacking. 

Fantasies have suffered much the same 
fate. Notable exceptions have been where 
the personalities of players have carried the 
production over through the sheer force of 
personal appeal. Douglas Fairbanks in 
The Thief of Bagdad achieved a greater 
success than would otherwise have been 
the case simply because it was Fairbanks. 

All of which explains in part why An- 
thony Ehler’s scenario Oberon having trav- 
eled the rounds has been consistently re- 
jected by American producers. Oberon 



might indeed be a very successful produc- 
tion in Europe, visualizing as it does many 
elements of European history and tradition 
which have only an indirect appeal in this 
country and that largely to those of foreign 
birth to whom the legendary characters 
are more or less real. But in this country 
the chances are 100 to 1 that it would 
prove a decided “flop.” 



A BUSY SEASON 
FOR EVE UNSELL 

W RITING the modern screen story, 
whether in original form or as an 
aptation, calls for a degree of ver- 
satility and a knowledge of human nature 
that is astounding when you stop to analyze 
things a bit. For instance, a resume of the 
scenario activities of Eve Unsell during the 
past few months runs pretty much the 
whole gamut of human emotions as well 
as involving an intimate understanding of 
the modus operandi of some half dozen 
directors and half as many studios. 

During the past year, which Miss Unsell 
states has been “the happiest and most suc- 
cessful of my busy screen career,” she 
has turned out nine scripts either as a 
whole or in collaboration. Starting with 
the adaptation of Hell’s High Road for 
Cecil B. DeMille, she followed that up 
with The Plastic Age for B. P. Schulberg. 
Then came collaboration with James Ham- 
ilton in the adaptation of The Ancient 
Highway, a James Oliver Curwood story, 
for Famous Players-Lasky ; and then a 
period of collaboration with June Mathis 
during which were evolved What Fools 
Men! for Lewis Stone and Shirley Mason, 
directed by George Archainbaud, and 
adapted from the book, Joseph Greer and 
His Daughter; The Girl from Mont marts, 
for Barbara LaMarr and Lewis Stone, di- 
rected by Alfred E. Green and adapted 
from the book, Spanish Sunlight, and The 
Second Chance on which she is now work- 
ing in collaboration with Miss Mathis, as 
a vehicle for Anna Q. Nilsson to be di- 
rected by Curt Rehfield. In between have 
been scripts for three Fox productions, 
Thunder Mountain, a Victor Schertzinger 
production based on the John Golden play 
Howdy Folks by Pearl Franklin; The 
Yankee Senor from the book The Conquis- 
tador, a Tom Mix production directed by 
Emmett Flynn, and The Golden Strain 
another Victor Schertzinger production 
from the Cosmopolitan story Thorough- 
breds by Peter B. Kyne. 



Following his return from his trans- 
continental trip visiting the exchanges, E. 
O. Van Pelt has taken a flier up into the 
Yellowstone where he shot exteriors on a 
new feature in eight working days getting 
some remarkable scenic stuff on the side. 



1925 



©i rector 



51 



Wampas Doin' s 



By A. Wampa 

A FTER a summer of relative inactiv- 
ity, with many members away on 
‘long distance jaunts, including both 
President Harry Brand and Vice-president 
Tom Engler, the Wampas have swung 
back into the harness and, in the words of 
Harry Wilson, are “up and at it again.” 
Many things are on the schedule for the 
fall and winter that promise interesting de- 
velopments. Of which more anon. 

The inactivity of the summer months 
was broken with a smash September 28th 
when Ham Beall took charge of the first 
of the fall meetings 
— a meeting which 
marked the return 
of Tom Engler as 
the van guard of the 
wandering Wampas 
who were wending 
their way westward. 
Tom’s return was 
an event in itself, 
particularly inas- 
much as at that 
time he was the 
only presiding offi- 
cer that the Wampas had, Harry Brand 
having resigned because of New York affili- 
ations. But the entertainment program 
staged by Ham Beall broke all records for 
snap, pep and vim. With the Dixieland 
Blue Boars from Freddy Solomon’s Palais 
de Dance tearing off the jazziest jazz heard 
by the Wampas in a long while and the 
Texas Tommy team from the prologue at 
Grauman’s Egyptian whirling through 
their dizzy dance number, things moved 
fast. With the genius of the true show- 
man Ham balanced the program with the 
Bartender Baritone, also from the Egyptian 
rendering a reportoire of old-time songs 
and ballads of the vintage of The Gold 
Rush. 

Saturday morning October 3rd the S.S. 
Manchuria docked at 8 o’clock with Harry 
Brand and Garrett Graham on board, 
Garrett likewise returning from New York 
as the eastern terminus of his recent tour. 
On the dock to meet Harry was a com- 
mittee of the silk-hatted Wampas composed 
of Joe Jackson, Harry Wilson, Norman 
Manning and Larry Weingarten, heading 
a Wampas delegation of sleepy-eyed press 
agents. In view of Harry’s popularity and 
his leadership during the early part of the 
year, when he actively filled the office of 
president it was to be expected that there 
would be a Wampas delegation on hand to 
greet him, but when that delegation was 



augmented by a group of newspaper men 
including several city editors, the home 
coming assumed new proportions and de- 
veloped into a glowing tribute both to 
Harry Brand and the Wampas as a whole. 

On the Tuesday following the docking 
of the Manchuria, a special meeting and 
dinner was held at the Writers’ Club in 
honor of the returning Wampa at which 
the Fourth Estate of Los Angeles turned 
out en masse. It is doubtful if there has 
ever been a greater gathering of Los An- 
geles newspaper men and representatives of 
the motion picture industry to do honor to 
a publicist than that which assembled in 
the spacious dining room of the Writers’ 
Club as a welcome to Harry Brand. In 
addition to the newspaper men were sev- 
eral writers of national repute, including 
Donald Ogden Stewart and Montague 
Glass ; while the motion picture industry 
was ably represented by Sid Grauman, Sol 
Lesser, M. C. Levee, J. Stuart Blackton, 
Frank Keenan, Lew Cody and a host of 
others. 

Coming in relays from Warner Brothers, 
entertainers from the KFWB radio pro- 
gram contributed the entertainment fea- 
tures of the evening through the courtesy 
of Norman Manning. Manning, by the 
way, having been 
elected to associate 
membership follow- 
ing the 1925 Frolic 
was elected to full 
membership in the 
W a m p a s at the 
September 28 meet- 
ing. 

The surprise of 
the evening was 
sprung by Tom 
Tom Engler Engler, who pre- 

sented his resigna- 
tion as president, urging that Harry Brand 
be reinstated. Tom’s resignation was acted 
upon and Harry reinstated by popular 

acclaim. 

With Harry Brand as the pivotal point 
the dinner developed into a home-coming 
for several other Wampas whose absence 
had been felt during the preceding months. 
There was Mark Larkin who had just 

gotten back after a summer exploiting Don 
O., Garrett Graham, who started for San 
Francisco and wound up in New York, 
Enoch Van Pelt, who has just finished a 
tour of the exchanges of the country; Tom 
Engler who has been visiting the old home 
folks in Maryland, and Arch Reeve who 






Harry Brand 

has been jaunting back and forth between 
Hollywood and San Francisco. 

After rusticating in the wilds of Kansas 
City, Eddie Hitchcock has returned to the 
fold and is handling publicity at the Cri- 
terion. 

Pete Smith, publicity director for M-G- 
M has also returned from a snappy trip 
to New York where he says he was so 
busily engaged in — well the things one does 
in New York — that he didn’t even have 
time to convey the greetings of the W.A.- 
M.P.A. to the A.M.P.A. 

Jeff Lazarus, formerly handling public- 
ity at the Metropolitan theatre in Los An- 
geles is now handling exploitation and pub- 
licity for Boston’s new theatre of the same 
name. 

Among those who have returned to Hol- 
lywood during the past few weeks have 
been Tom Reed and Carroll Graham, who 
have returned to the centre of press agentry 
from Universal City and have hung out 
their shingle at 6683 Sunset Boulevard. As 
a matter of fact Tom Reed has busted 
into the ranks of the free lance publicists 
with a flock of twenty-four sheet stands 
scattered where they will do the most good 
announcing that fact. As an exploitation 
man Tom is a good doctor — he takes his 
own medicine. 

But “seriously fellows” as Bert Dorris 
would say, ol’ Bert himself merits a word 
of commendation for his handling of a 
difficult problem during the summer months 
when he was called on to pinch hit for 
Harry Brand and Tom Engler. 






52 



©irector 



What the Direc 



DIRECTOR 


STUDIO 


PRODUCTION 


STAR 


SCENARIST 


John G. Adolphi 


Fine Arts 


The Phantom Express 


Dave Butler 


Tom Hopkins 


Lloyd Bacon 


Sennett 


Comedy 


Ralph Graves 


Staff 


Clarence Badger 


Paramount 


Hands Up 


Raymond Griffith 




King Baggot 


United 


Tumbleweed 


Bill Hart 




Svlvano Balboni 


LTited 


The Far Cry 


All-star 


Katherine Kavanaugh 


Harold Beaudine 


Christie 


Comedy 


Neal Burns 


Kingsley Benedict 


William Beaudine 


Pickford-Fairbanks 


Scraps 


Mary Pick ford 


Winifred Dunn 


George Beban 


F.B.O. 


Loves of Ricardo 


George Beban 


Staff 


Paul Bern 


M-G-M 


Paris 






J. Stuart Blackton 


Warner Bros. 


Maryland, My Maryland 


Costello-Harron 


Marian Constance 


Frank Borzage 


Fox 


The First Year 


All-star 


Frances Marion 


Clarence Brown 


L T nited 


Kiki 


Norma Talmadge 


Hans Kraely 


H. J. Brown 


California 


Windjammer 


Billy Sullivan 


Grover Jones 


Tod Browning 


M-G-M 


The Mocking Bird 


Lon Chaney 


Waldeman Young 


Edwin Carew 


United 


Joanna with a Million 


Dorothy Mackaill 




Eddie F. Cline 


Sennett 


Comedy 


Alice Day 


Staff 


Jack Conway 


M-G-M 


The Reason Why 


Norma Shearer 


Loring-Lighton 


William J. Craft 


Universal 


Radio Detective 


William Desmond 


Staff 


Allan Crossland 


Warner Brothers 


Don Juan 


John Barrymore 


Bess Meredith 


Cecile DeMille 


DeMille 


The Volga Boatman 


All-star 


Coffee-Macpherson 


William DeMille 


Paramount 


Magpie 


Daniels-Hamilton 


Violet Clark 


Roy Del Ruth 


Warner Brothers 


The Agony Column 


Blue-Devore 


E. T. Lowe, J r. 


Edward Dillon 


Metropolitan 


The Bride 


Priscilla Dean 


Finis Fox 


Scott Dunlop 


Universal 


Seventh Bandit 


Harry Carey 


Dick Shayer 


Dallas Fitzgerald 


Universal 


On Her Own 


Clara Bow 




Francis Ford 


Ben Wilson 


The Power God 


Ben Wilson 


George W. Pvper 


John Ford 


Fox 


Three Bad Men 


All-star 


John Stone 


Sven Gade 


Universal 


Wives for Rent 


All-star 


Tom Hopkins 


John Grant 


California 


Plumb Center Comedies 


All-star 


Staff 


Alfred E. Green 


United 


Irene 


Colleen Moore 


June Mathis 


Wm. Goodwich 


Educational 


Comedy 


Lupino Lane 


Staff 


Fred Guiol 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 




Staff 


Alan Hale 


DeMille 


Braveheart 


Rod La Rocque 


Mary O’Hara 


Hobart Henley 


M-G-M 


Free Lips 


Shearer-Cody 


Loring-Lighton 


Joseph Henabery 


F.B.O. 


Playing Safe 


Monty Banks 


Staff 


George Hill 


M-G-M 


The Barrier 


All-star 


Harvey Gates 


James W. Horne 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


All-star 


Staff 


John E. Ince 


Fine Arts 


Midnight Thieves 


Rawlinson-Darmond 


Staff 


Lloyd Ingraham 


F.B.O. 


The Nut Cracker 


All-star 


Madge Myton 


F red Jackman 


Hal Roach 


The Devil Horse 


Rex 


Hal Roach 


Emory Johnson 


F.B.O. 


The Last Edition 


Ralph Lewis 


Beatrice Van 


Daniel Keefe 


Fox 


Cupid a la Carte 


All-star 




Erie Kenton 


Warner Brothers 


Broken Hearts 


All-star 


Gregory Rogers 


George Jeske 


California 


Untitled 


All-star 


Staff 



©irector 



S3 



tors Are Doing 



DIRECTOR 


STUDIO 


PRODUCTION 


STAR 


SCENARIST 


Henry King 


United 


Potash and Perlmutter 


Carr-Sidnev 


Frances Marion 


Charles Lamont 


Educational 


Untitled 


All-star 


Staff 


Robert Z. Leonard 


M-G-M 


Dance Madness 


All-star 




Del Lord 


Sennett 


Comedy 


Raymond McKee 


Staff 


J. P. McGowan 


California 


Mistaken Orders 


Helen Holmes 


William Lester 


Robert McGowan 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Our Gang 


Staff 


Leo McCarev 


Hal Roach 


Untitled 


Charles Chase 


Staff 


Leo Maloney 


Maloford 


The Blind T rail 


Leo Maloney 


Ford Beebe 


George Melford 


Metropolitan 


Rocking Moon 


All-star 


Cunningham-Clawson 


Lewis Milestone 


Warner Bros. 


The Cave Man 


Matt Moore 


Julian Josephsen 


Bruce Mitchell 


Fine Arts 


The Ace 


Dick Grace 


Gene Taylor 


Vin Moore 


LIniversal 


Comedy 


Holmes-Corbett 


Moore-McKenzie 


Jack Nelson 


F.B.O. 


Prince of Pep 


Richard Talmadge 


Jas. Bell Smith 


Fred Niblo 


M-G-M 


Ben Hur 


Ramon Novarro 


June Mathis 


A1 Parker 


Pickford-Fairbanks 


The Black Pirate 


Douglas Fairbanks 


Staff 


Albert Ray 


Fox 


Helen and Warren 


Perry-Cooley 


Kathryn Carr 


T. J. Ray 


California 


Untitled 


Jackie Ray 


Staff 


Herman Raymaker 


Warner Bros. 


The Night Cry 


Rin-tin-tin 




Chuck Reisner 


Warner Bros. 


Nightie Night, Nurse 


Svd Chaplin 


Reisner-Zannuck 


Curt Rehfield 


United 


The Second Chance 


All-star 


Eve Unsell 


Lynn Reynolds 


Universal 


Combat 


House Peters 




Jess Robbins 


Educational 


Comedy 


Lupino Lane 


Staff 


Steve Roberts 


Educational 


Untitled 


Lige Conley 


Staff 


A1 Rogell 


Universal 


Gunning Guns 


Jack Hoxie 


A1 Rogell 


Wesley Ruggles 


F.B.O. 


A Broadway Lad 


Evelyn Brent 


J. G. Hawkes 


Nat Ross 


F.B.O. 


Transcontinental Limited 




Harvey Thew 


Vic Schertzinger 


Fox 


The Golden Strain 


All-star 


Peter B. Kyne 


Lou Seiler 


Fox 


The Flying Fool 


All-star 


Staff 


William Seiter 


Universal 


Skinner’s Dress Suit 


Reginald Denny 


Rex Taylor 


H. Scott Sidney 


Metropolitan 


Million Dollar Handicap 


Vera Reynolds 


F. McGrew Willis 


Cliff Smith 


Universal 


Fool for Luck 


House Peters 




Edward Sutherland 


Paramount 


Behind the Front 


Mary Brian 


Frank Condon 


Jack Straver 


Waldorf 


Untitled 


Dorothy Revier 




Slim Summerville 


Universal 


Comedy 


All-star 


Staff 


Sam Taylor 


Metropolitan 


Untitled 


Harold Lloyd 


Staff 


Norman Taurog 


Educational 


Untitled 


Lloyd Hamilton 


Staff 


King Vidor 


M-G-M 


La Boheme 


Lillian Gish 


Edmund Goulding 


Eric von Stroheim 


United 


East of the Setting Sun 


Constance Talmadge 


von Stroheim 


Robert Vignola 


Metropolitan 


Fifth Avenue 


De La Mott-Forrest 


Anthony Coldewey 


Raoul Walsh 


Paramount 


The Golden Journey 


Nissen-Collier, Jr. 




C. Richard Wallace 


Hal Roach 


Comedy 


Clyde Cook 


Staff 


Herman Weight 


F.B.O. 


Flaming Waters 


All-star 


Staff 


Roland West 


L T nited 


The Bat 


All-star 


Roland West 


Ceder Wilkinson 


F.B.O. 


The Mazie Series 


Vaughn-Kent 


Lewell Martin 


John Griffith Wray 


Fox 


The Golden Butterfly 


All-star 


Bradley King 



54 



©irector 



November 



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MY POLICY 



THE ONLY compensation accepted 
by my office is from artists , writers and 
directors under written contract to me. 

Other engagements which this organi- 
zation secures are consummated gratis, 
as a courtesy to the individual and a 
service to the producer. 

We are glad to talk your problems 
over with you. 

DEM MY LAMSON 

MANAGER 



Associates— 

Miss Ruth Collier 
Mr. W. 0. Christensen 
(Formerly at the M-G-M 
and Lasky Studios) 



6683 Sunset 
Boulevard 

Tel., Hempstead 1802 



Jess Smith— New York Representative 



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1925 

THE ZULU 

HUT 

<• ■*- * 

R aymond McKee 

cordially invites 
you to visit his 
ZULU HUT out Ven- 
tura Boulevard, two 
miles beyond Cahuen- 
ga Pass. He hopes you 
will make the ZULU 
HUT a meeting place 
for yourself and friends 
where you may spend 
nothing but your time, 
and gaze into the great 
open fireplace while 
you play at Bridge, 
Checkers or what not. 
He tearfully regrets 
that he will be obliged 
to admit folks who are 
bent upon spending 
money. There you may 
be yourself, and let the 
weird wanderings of 
your spirit take what 
form they will. 



Incidentally he serves 
whole squab, whole 
fried chicken, hot bis- 
cuits, corn pone and 
honey, not to mention 
the real coffee. 

The Zulu Hut 

One-half mile beyond the turn to 
Universal City on Ventura 
Boulevard. 



“SakuBona M'Lunger” 
Zulu for 

“I Greet you. White Man!” 



director 

Charley Chase Turns 
to Activity 

By Edith M. Ryan 

I N the annals of Hollywood there are 
numerous cases of actors who have be- 
come directors, but it would be more 
difficult to present a list of directors who 
have exchanged the megaphone for the 
makeup box. Consequently the hat of 
Charley Chase, student of laughter, thrown 
in the comedy ring is interesting. And since 
it is there to stay, it is timely to measure 
this young man. 




Charley Chase 



During his six years with Hal Roach, 
Charley Chase spent four of them as di- 
rector of highly successful one-reel come- 
dies. The money they earned would re- 
flect credit on the most widely known direc- 
tor in the game. And they are still mak- 
ing money. 

But the psychological moment came and 
Charley Chase in the full enjoyment of 
his prestige as director, reckoned as one 
of the best in the comedy field, burned his 
ships and began the fashioning of his name 
for the electric lights, in the role of the 
average American youth who has been 
plunged into amusing situations. 

To Charley Chase has been given the 
gift of story weaving. As director he 
wrote all his stories and supplied the 
“gags”. He has not escaped the type- 
writer as actor. For the first year of his 
one-reelers, he wrote thirty stories, and 
since he began the Charley Chase comedies, 
he has written fully a dozen stories in 
collaboration with Leo McCarey, in charge 
of this unit. When his year ends he will 
have completed a better average than one 
a month. 



If you saw it advertised in THE DIREC- 
TOR, why not say so? That will cost you 
nothing and will be of genuine service to 
both merchant and magazine. 



55 




M embership in the 

Breakers Club is limited 
to those men and women 
whose names will add to the 
high character of the club’s 
present roster. 

Life Memberships now 
available are not assessable, 
not liable and may be trans- 
ferred. 

The Breakers Club will mark 
great improvement over all 
shore clubs of similar nature 
anywhere in the U. S. 

BREAKERS 
C - L - U - B 

Property at Executive Offices 

Ocean Front &_ 8 th Floor Spring Arcade 
Marine Terrace 541 Spring Street 

Santa Monica Phone TUcker 8085 





56 



T 

I T ISN'T POSSIBLE 

* * * 

WITH OUR PRESENT EQUIP- 
MENT 

* * * 

TO DO ALL THE LAUNDRY 

* * * 

IN HOLLYWOOD 

* * * 

SO WE’RE SATISFIED 

Hi Hi Hs 

FOR THE PRESENT 

* * * 

TO SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON THE SHARE WE GET 

* * * 

BUT WE WISH TO REMIND 
YOU 

* * * 

THAT IT’S ALWAYS POSSIBLE 

* * * 

TO DO A LITTLE BIT MORE 

Hi Hi Hi 

AND IN THE COURSE 

* * * 

OF A NATURAL GROWTH 

H: Hi Hi 

WE’LL SPECIALIZE 

* * * 

ON THE “LITTLE BIT MORE’’ 

Hi Hi Hi 

FOR AFTER ALL 

* * * 

WE’RE SPECIALISTS ANY- 
WAY— 

Hi * Hi 

THAT’S PROGRESS! 



COMMUNITY 

LAUNDRY 

1001 McCadden PI. HOlly 2538 



1PN MOTION nmw 

director 

OFF SCREEN 

PERSONALITIES 

(Continued from Page 44) 

I T was not until 1922, however, that 
Levee attained his whole aim. In that 
tear, he mustered capital, bought out Brun- 
ton, acquired the land on which the studio 
stood, with the addition of ten more acres, 
and became president of the corporation. 
Coincidentally, the name of the big lot was 
changed to the United Studios, and remains 
that. 

It was at this time, too, that Joseph 
Schenck, now chairman of the board of 
directors and a heavy stockholder, became 
an important factor in the affairs of the 
organization. 

Until he bought out Brunton, Levee had 
been vice-president, treasurer and assistant 
secretary. The staff had been Brunton 
hired, however, and, when the former vice- 
president took over, the executive heads 
assumed as a matter of course, that they 
would be discharged. So, following cus- 
tom in such crises, they turned in their 
resignations. 

Then Levee did a characteristic thing. 
He called all the executive heads into his 
office. 

“This is all nonsense,” he said. “We’ve 
had some little scraps from time to time, 
but we’ll forget them. I want you all to 
stay. All I ask is that you give me the 
same loyalty you did Brunton.” 

They stayed — and they are still staying. 
As for their loyalty, try to hire one of 
them. Other people have. 

From the day when Levee became presi- 
dent, the expansion of the studio has been 
marked. It now has six stages, including 
number six, the largest in the world. Two 
more are now being built as part of a 
$300,000 improvement program begun in 
August. 

Producing constantly on the lot are 
Norma Talmadge, Rudolph Valentino, 
Constance Talmadge, Colleen Moore, 
First National Productions, Frank Lloyd 
Productions, Corinne Griffith, Edwin Ca- 
rewe, Henry King Productions, Samuel 
Goldwyn Productions and June Mathis 
Productions. 

Each of the various producers has his in- 
dividual offices on the lot. There are three 
star bungalows. The Talmadge sisters 
sisters occupy the one built for Miss Pick- 
ford, and left tenantless when her needs 
and those of her famous husband caused 
them to build a studio of their own. The 
other two were built for Rudolph Valen- 
tino and Marion Davies. In addition, 
ground is now being broken for a bunga- 
low for Colleen Moore. There are a host 
of dressing rooms, and more being built. 
The mechanical department, with its plan- 
ing mill, blacksmith shop, painting and 
electrical departments, now occupies two 
acres. The contents of the huge prop 



November 

buildings are valued at more than a mil- 
lion dollars. 

The actual area of the studio is now 
twenty-seven and one half acres, six acres 
having been subdivided in the spring of 
1925. Incidentally, as a sample of Los 
Angeles land values, they were sold for 
more than the entire thirty-three acres had 
cost four years ago. 

Levee, the young man who strolled into 
the studio in 1917, and routed a sheriff, 
can sit back now at the ripe age of 33, and 
survey the realization of his dream. He 
does that. He has a personal pride, not 
only in the studio, but in the pictures which 
are produced in it. Such pictures as The 
Isle of Dead Ships, Flaming Youth, Black 
Oxen, The Sea Hatvk and Ashes of Ven- 
geance. 

When Levee dreamed of an independent 
studio, pictures like this had never been 
conceived. Would they have been if some- 
one had not built a place where imagina- 
tion and ambition could have free scope? 
Possibly, but certainly not soon. 

— C. S. Dunning. 



Demand for Short Subjects 

A greater demand for entertaining short 
film subjects exists today than ever before 
in the history of the motion picture busi- 
ness. Exhibitors throughout the country 
are clamoring for wholesome two-reel com- 
edies that can be featured on their programs 
but at the same time there is no demand 
for ordinary ‘fillers’. 

This is the contention of Joe Rock, pro- 
ducer of Standard and Blue Ribbon com- 
edies, who but recently completed a survey 
of the short subject market. 

“Such two-reelers as the pictures we are 
now producing are extremely popular with 
showmen everywhere as they are clean and 
entertaining and have a genuine appeal with 
adults and children alike,” says Rock. “No 
longer will the producer of suggestive com- 
edies find a market for his product as ex- 
hibitors have found out that this class of 
so-called entertainment is neither profitable 
nor appealing.” 

Rock recently mailed a questionnaire on 
the subject of comedy films to 500 leading 
exhibitors in this country and he bases his 
conclusions on the replies he received from 
this campaign. 



Frank Lawrence Resigns 
Frank Lawrence, film editor-in-chief at 
Universal City, has resigned that office, 
according to an announcement made by 
Lawrence. Lawrence has cut and edited 
some of the most successful pictures pro- 
duced by Universal. 

Hal Crane, one of America’s most bril- 
liant creators of vaudeville sketches, is to 
take a fling at motion picture scenarios, it 
was learned with the announcement of his 
new contract with the Metro-Goldwyn- 
Maver studios. 



192 5 



57 



J— ~*V MOTION PH T tst 

director 

Claims Sitting Bull “Stole” 
Massacre Scene 



C HIEF Standing Bear, son of one of 
Sitting Bull's great war chiefs and 
who is appearing with several hun- 
dred other Indians in Universal’s Hearts of 
the West, takes issue with history as to the 
part played by Sitting Bull in the campaign 
that eventually ended in the Custer massa- 
cre. Sitting Bull, in the language of mo- 
tion picture people, merely stole the scene 
from Chief Gall and Chief Crazy Horse, 
two great war chieftains of the Sioux, ac- 
cording to Standing Bear. 

Standing Bear was three years old at the 
time of the massacre, is a graduate of the 
famous Carlisle Indian School and has 
delved deep into the lore of his tribe. In 
addition, his statements are supported bv 
the accounts of the campaign given him 
by his father. 

“Sitting Bull was not a ‘brave,’ ” says 
Standing Bear. “Never had be taken a 
scalp. He was a medicine man who ex- 
ercised great influence over his people. At 
the time of the Custer massacre he was six 
miles away. Chief Gall was the real war 
leader of my people. Sitting Bull, he had 



‘big head.’ When they took him to Wash- 
ington to see the Great White father he 
really thought he was to be made president. 
But he changed his mind when he came 
back, and but for my father he would have 
been killed. My people hated him. When 
he returned, Crazy Horse tried to kill him 
but my father held Crazy Horse off with 
a rifle.” 

Standing Bear takes a rather unique 
stand as to the ethics of scalping. 

“When our boys came home from the 
war in Europe they brought back German 
helmets and rifles as trophies,” he said, “to 
show people that they had really been there. 
When the Indian took the warpath 
against an enemy tribe he brought back the 
scalps of the braves he had slain. It was 
his proof that he had been to war and had 
killed an enemy.” 

The cast of Hearts of the West, includes 
such players as Hoot Gibson, Anne Corn- 
wall, Dustin Farnum, Ward Crane, Kath- 
leen Key, Eddie Gribbon, Harry Todd, 
George Fawcett and Harold Goodwin. 



Producing Entire Pictures on 
Location 

Probably not since the film industry was 
“in its infancy” has an entire picture been 
made wholly on location, but that is what 
Renaud Hoffman is doing in the Redwood 
State Park near Santa Cruz and what 
Jack Ford has been doing at Jackson Hole, 
Wyoming, where the Fox special, Three 
Bad Men, has been in production. 

A large company of players with a for- 
midable array of props and equipment have 
been sent to Santa Cruz and filming is now 
under way on The Phantom of the Forest, 
Hoffman’s newest feature for Gotham 
Productions. Both exteriors and interiors 
will be made in the wilds with the old 
Spreckels’ ranch at Aptos furnishing part of 
the settings. The electric power company 
has installed transformers to secure cur- 
rent from the main transmission line sev- 
eral miles away. 

The Phantom of the Forest will feature 
Thunder, famous canine actor of the screen 
and is an original story from the pen of 
his owner, Frank Foster Davis, who also 
plays a prominent role in the picture. James 
J. Tynan made the adaptation. The all- 
star cast, under the direction of Henry 
McCarty, is headed by Betty Francisco 
and Eddie Phillips and includes James Ma- 
son, Irene Hunt, Rhodv Hathaway and 
others. The company will be on location 
for several weeks according to Glenn Belt. 



Donald Ogden Stewart Signs With 
M.G.M. Studio 

Found at last! A famous author who 
doesn’t want to revolutionize the screen ! 

His name is Donald Ogden Stewart, and 
he has just arrived in California to serve 
what he calls an “apprenticeship” at the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Maver studios. 

Stewart, author of the remarkable suc- 
cessful novel, The Crazy Fool, recently 
purchased by M-G-M, is under contract 
as an editor and supervisor, possibly to do 
his first work on his own novel. He is one 
of the best known authors in America, and 
six of h is books in succession have won wide 
popularity. 

“I never had anything to do with pic- 
tures before,” says Stewart, “and have no 
illusions about revolutionizing them — -nor 
have I any idea that I know anything about 
them. I am going to try to learn the busi- 
ness before I talk about it.” 

Stewart is the author of A Parody Out- 
line of History, hailed as a classic in hu- 
mor, Perfect Behavior, Aunt Polly’s Story 
of Mankind and Mr. and Mrs. Haddock 
A broad. 



FOR SALE 
Yearly Subscriptions to 
THE DIRECTOR 
$2.50 

Director Publishing Corp. 
1925 Wilcox Ave., Hollywood 



sound-casting — ? 
“let ’em ALL hear” 

last time you saw this picture 
in this place the outfit had just 
left the shop. 

our activities since then have 
been many and varied. 

we provided both radio and an- 
nouncing facilities for 17,000 at 
maier park for an open-air fight. 

kept 25,000 informed during 
auto-classic at fresno. 

received opera from kfi and am- 
plified it in Olympic auditorium 
during schumann-heink’s recent 
broadcast. 

altho our first work was on a 
large movie lot our other activi- 
ties have covered about every 
sound-amplification problem. 

our efforts in this field have 
met with the enthusiastic ap- 
proval of our clients. 

you’ll hear a lot about our work 
from now on. 




the most powerful portable 
sound-casting unit in the west 

your’s to command — any place, 
any time (if date is open). 



the radio stores co., inc. 
426 west eighth street 
tucker 3148 



p. s. we want more movie work ! 




58 



I ~\ MfTIO* MCTVU 

©irector 



November 



Getting the Third Dimension 

On the Screen 



D EVELOPMENTS in cinematogra- 
phy presaging results of far-reach- 
ing importance in both production 
and exhibition of motion pictures are an- 
nounced by Charles B. Hazlehurst in con- 
nection with the perfection of experiments 
conducted by Max O. Miller in third di- 
mensional photography. 

According to the statements made by 
Mr. Hazlehurst, as attorney for Mr. Mil- 
ler and his associate in the development 
of his stereoscopic patents, and as demon- 
strated at a private showing of a test film 
given the members of the Wampas, third 
dimensional photography is not only pos- 
sible but exceedingly practical. 

Ordinary photography, Mr. Hazlehurst 
explains, has but two dimensions, length 
and breadth, but no depth. The function 
of the Miller attachment is to produce 
depth, and when you have depth, you have 
the “roundness” of objects in the fore- 
ground that creates the stereoscopic effect. 

Interesting as this phase of the device is 
in its far-reaching possibilities for creating 
greater realism in screen production, there 
are two other angles that are of equal im- 
portance, Mr. Hazlehurst points out. In 
getting depth the Miller attachment also 
gets distance ; and while these terms 
might at first be conceived as being synony- 
mous in the results achieved, there is a 
very finely drawn distinction. This was 
demonstrated in the scenes of the test reel 
showing shots of the Grand Canyon in 
which sharp definition was gotten for a 
distance of fifty miles, and it is claimed by 
Mr. Hazlehurst that it is possible to get 
definition for 125 miles. 

The other factor involved is that of reg- 
istering scenes on the films when there is a 
minimum of reflective light — after sun- 
down, in fog or rain, or even at night. 
Again the angle of “distance” is responsi- 
ble, for as explained by Mr. Hazlehurst, it 
it possible to register upon the sensitized 
film of the camera everything that the 
naked eye can detect in the same amount 
of light. For example, it is claimed that 
it is possible to take pictures during rain 
and register the same picture as that which 
will be seen with the naked eye. 

The importance of this feature is more 
far-reaching than would appear in casual 
consideration of the subject. For Mr. 
Hazlehurst confidently asserts that the 
problem of Kleig eyes may be conclusively 
solved through the light absorption quali- 
ties of the Miller attachment. He bases 
this assertion on the fact that the glare of 
Kleig lights is not essential to perfect pho- 



tography in steroscopic film. The same 
results can be procured through the use 
of simply the Cooper-Hewitts and the 
broads by which daylight is simulated on a 
darkened stage. 

T HE fundamental principle of the Mil- 
ler device, Mr. Hazlehurst points out, 
while declining to make any further state- 
ment concerning the composition or details 
of the attachment, is based on bringing to 
the eye of the camera all the light that is 
in both foreground and background. 

“The ordinary lens,” says Mr. Hazle- 
hurst, “excludes through absorption, re- 
fraction, reflection and other qualities, 
fully fifty per cent of the light impinging 
upon the lens. Through the Miller at- 
tachment all the light that is available is 
brought to the lens and through the lens 
to the sensitized film. 

“There is nothing wrong with the film,” 
he goes on to say. “The film now in use 
will register all the picture that reaches it. 
By using the Miller attachment on any 
camera greater detail and definition can 
be obtained and consequently a clearer, 
sharper picture in which objects in the fore- 
ground will assume that condition of 
‘roundness’ which is induced by the depth 
acquired in the background. 

“And conversely whatever has been reg- 
istered on the film can be reproduced on 
the screen by fitting the projection ma- 
chine with the Miller projection attach- 
ment.” 

According to Mr. Hazlehurst, the at- 
tachment has been simplified to the point 
where it may be quickly and easily at- 
tached to any camera or projector and 
calls for no other adjustment or special 
apparatus. 

Like many others Mr. Miller has been 
experimenting with third dimensional pho- 
tography for many years. He has worked 
for the past twelve years, to be specific, 
in perfecting his stereoscopic attachment 
and it looks as though he had achieved it. 

The demonstration given at the Writers’ 
Club before the Wampas showed very in- 
terestingly something of the possibilities of 
the device. The first scenes were taken 
after the sun had gone down and were 
thirty per cent stereoscopic. The principle 
demonstrated in these scenes was that of 
getting definition and distance under con- 
ditions which ordinarily would be consid- 
ered impossible. The results were gray 
but the picture was there. The most in- 
teresting features of the demonstration, 
however, centered in the shots of the 



Grand Canyon in which some marvelous 
results were obtained. Not only was dis- 
tance beyond the range of the ordinary 
lens or even the naked eye procured with 
remarkable definition, but the third dimen- 
sional qualities giving depth to the picture 
brought out, as has rarely been done, the 
full grandeur and beauty of the Grand 
Canyon. 

Shots showing the Colorado river flow- 
ing through deep gorges into which sun- 
light penetrates only a few minutes during 
the day, were shown sharply and clearly 
and were snapped into extreme realism by 
effective tinting. One of the most inter- 
esting features of the river scenes was that 
showing one of the water falls in which a 
flickering rainbow playing through the mist 
was caught clearly and distinctly. 

Indicative of the possibilities of the Mil- 
ler attachment for registering scenes in 
light other than direct bright sunlight, Mr. 
Hazlehurst included in his demonstration 
a shot down the gorge made after the sun 
had gone down, in which the beauties of 
the canyon were still clearly visible for 
fifty miles beneath bank upon bank of 
fleecy clouds upon which was reflected the 
last rays of the dying sun. 

I N the past it has been frequently as- 
serted that third dimensional results 
were obtained through the use of the ster- 
eoscopic device, formerly seen so commonly 
on the parlor table, by a double set of lens 
which focused each eye upon a separate 
picture, and that it was because both eyes 
were used in this manner an effect of 
“roundness” was obtained. But, according 
to Mr. Hazlehurst, that theory can be ex- 
ploded by the simple expedient of closing 
one eye. An object that is round will still 
appear round. Mr. Miller’s preliminary 
experiments were based on the theory that 
it doesn’t take two eyes to produce stereo- 
scopic results, and that accordingly the 
single lens of the ordinary camera can be 
made to produce the same result. 

First public exhibition of films made 
with the Miller attachment will be made 
in December when the screen version of 
Emerson Hough’s Ship of Souls will be 
released by Associated Exhibitors. The 
entire camera work on this production was 
done under the direct supervision of Max 
Miller and with the use of the Miller at- 
tachment. Most of the scenes were taken 
at Truckee and because of the brilliancy 
of the reflection from the broad expanses 
of snow, the stereoscopic qualities were 



192 5 



59 



©irector 



Doug and Mary 

To Do Joint Picture 



stopped down to thirty per cent of their 
full value. 

That the possibilities of the Miller at- 
tachment are not restricted to motion pic- 
ture photography is brought out by the 
assertion that equally as interesting results 
can be obtained in still photography and 
that the attachment may be used with sim- 
ilar effectiveness in connection with small 
kodaks as with the large cameras of the 
motion picture and commercial world. 

Practical demonstrations of the Miller 
attachment are to be made during the week 
of November 9 at several of the large 
motion picture studios when direct com- 
parative experiments will be made between 
the cameras regularly used on the set and 
a camera equipped with stereoscopic fea- 
tures. The real test in these experiments, 
Mr. Hazlehurst predicts, will come when 
the same scenes are shot without the use 
of Kleigs upon a stage illuminated only by 
Cooper-Hewitts and broads. 



Popularizes “Mother” 
Roles 

C LAIRE McDOWELL has been se- 
cured by Hobart Henley to play 
the part of Norma Shearer’s mother 
in Free Lips, with Miss Shearer and Lew 
Cody. 

M iss McDowell bids fair to become the 
screen’s sensation in mother roles with the 
release of her next two or three pictures. 
Three of the very greatest roles of this or 
any other year have recently fallen to the 
lot of this actress, and according to all re- 
ports she has made the most of everyone. 

Miss McDowell plays the mother of 
Ben Hur, one of the very greatest parts in 
the great Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer produc- 
tion. She also plays John Gilbert’s mother 
in The Big Parade, which promises to be 
this year’s sensation, and has won unstinted 
praise from critics and public alike for her 
portrayal of “Katrina,” Norma Shearer’s 
mother, in The Tower of Lies. 



Superstitious Cats 

A LL cats are superstitious. They think 
its bad luck to work on any direc- 
tor’s birthday. Hence the trouble Jimmy 
Hogan had the other day when he tried to 
get a black cat to perform in Steel Pre- 
ferred. With prop boys holding the black 
cat and others trying to coax it into acting 
natural, it developed a terrible streak of 
temperament, darted across stage in the 
wrong direction and escaped under the stu- 
dio floor, never to return. Walter Long 
and his wife happened by and when told 
of the catastrophy, promptly motored home 
brought two beautiful black cats not ad- 
verse to working on Hogan’s birthday and 
they went through their paces beautifully. 
Thus was old man Overhead thwarted 
again. 



R UMORS that Doug and Mary are 
to realize Miss Pickford’s oft-ex- 
pressed ambition to do a joint picture 
have been confirmed from the Pickford- 
Fairbanks studio in the announcement that 
tentative plans are being formed for a joint 
Pickford-Fairbanks production to be filmed 
abroad. 

According to the present plans of these 
two world-famoUs stars Doug and Mary 
will probably leave for a tour around the 
world in March or April to be gone a 
year, returning to Hollywood in the spring 
of 1927. 

In the meantime Doug is busily engaged 
in the filming of his first technicolor pro- 
duction, The Black Pirate, while Mary 
is completing Scraps, her second picture 
under the direction of Bill Beaudine. 

Immediately upon the completion of 
Scraps Miss Pickford is scheduled to start 



F INISHING his contract with Mack 
Sennett by completing his last two- 
reel fun film for the comedy producer, 
Harry Langdon and his staff, have moved 
bag and baggage to their new quarters on 
the United Studio lot where First National 
makes its headquarters. 

William Jenner, the comedian’s manag- 
er, had already taken space, occupying the 
offices which were used by Rudolph 



THE BIG PARADE 

(Continued from Page 29) 

pulsating drama of life itself. It is the 
first production that I have ever seen that 
has caught the spirit of national pride that 
makes the United States army the greatest 
fighting organization on earth — that sub- 
tile yearning to acquit themselves honor- 
ably in doing that which the situation de- 
mands, that brings heroes out of the slums 
and the mansions of wealth alike. 

I saw The Big Parade screened without 
accompanying music, in a cold, empty 
house. With an introductory prologue of 
the calibre that has made Sid Grauman 
famous ; with a musical score of the throb- 
bing vitality with which he accompanies 
each great production at the Egyptian, 
The Big Parade, as a Grauman presen- 
tation, should prove one of the greatest at- 
tractions the Hollywood playhouse has ever 
known, if not one of the greatest presenta- 
tions anywhere. 



work on a third production in which will 
be recited the adventures of a shop girl in 
a large American city. With Bill Beau- 
dine scheduled to return to Warner Broth- 
ers, by whom he was loaned to Miss Pick- 
ford, upon completion of Scraps, consider- 
able interest centers around the question of 
who will be Miss Pickford’s director on 
the third picture. No statement on this 
subject has been forthcoming from the 
Pickford-Fairbanks studio, however. 

That Mary Pickford intends never to 
“grow up” is evidenced by her assertion 
that in the future she will do only the child 
parts that have always been her most suc- 
cessful roles. In this she has been influ- 
enced both by inclination and by the phe- 
nomenal success which it is reported has 
attended the openings of Little Annie 
Rooney, not only in the key centers of this 
country but in Europe as well. 



Valentino and his organization. 

1 hese quarters, however, are only tem- 
porary, for the Langdon unit of First 
National will occupy a bungalow — a build- 
ing separate from the administration offices 
of the various companies at United Studios. 

The comedian is to begin production at 
once on a five-reel fun fest, the script of 
which has been compiled by five noted 
scenarists and gagmen. 



“Good Old Days” 

S TAGE hands of forty years ago, re- 
cruited, two from an old soldiers’ home 
at Sawtelle, and two from the ranks of 
screen extras, returned to their old craft 
during the filming of La Boherne, Lillian 
Gish’s new starring vehicle. 

They handled the old gas footlights, re- 
produced in the theatre scene in the play, 
on a specially arranged stage at the Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer studios. They handled 
the ancient paper scenery, obtained from the 
storehouse of an old theatre at San Ber- 
nardino, and tended the varied obsolete 
stage fixtures. 

A theatre of years ago was reconstructed 
in every detail for the new picture, which 
King Vidor is directing. 



Subscribe to THE DIRECTOR, but be 
sure and send in your change in address at 
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Harry Langdon Moves to First National Lot 



60 



I X MOTION Wl TlTU 

director 



November 




A Famous Piano 
/^Famous People 



'7THE Music Lover’s Shop ... so widely known 
as the artistic rendezvous for things that com- 
plement the home beautiful ... is proud to offer 
in its collections of masterpieces the famous Chas. 
M. Stieff, Inc., Piano. 

This noted instrument has been recognized by East- 
ern critics as the Standard in Pianos since 1842. 
And it is indeed fitting that such a Shop as Rich- 
ardson’s should be selected to represent this great 
achievement of the craftsman’s skill. 

Screenland’s discriminating taste for the best will 
confirm Richardson’s judgment in its representation 
of the Chas. M. Stieff, Inc., Piano. 

To be had in Uprights, 

Qrand or Piano Players 



Richardson's* 

. . O'he Music Lovers' Shop 

NOW- &x 730 West Seventh St 




Radiolas....Victrolas 
... Imported Art Cab - 
inets, products of the 
Music Lover’s Shop, 
are to be found in the 
Southland’s finest 
homes. 




19 25 



f ^ MOTION uniw 

©irector 



61 



Focus 



By Wilfrid North 

A _,L directors have been through it at 
some time or another. A morning 
when everything went wrong. First, 
the leading woman did not arrive until 
past ten o’clock, then it was discovered she 
had dressed for the wrong episode and had 
to change her clothes ; then, when finally 
she reappeared, and everybody said, “At 
last!” and “Thank goodness, we can start 
now,” the cameraman suggested that in the 
“long shot” he was showing a lot of ceiling, 
and there was an abundance of light, and 
no visible reason for it, and, as it was an 
evening party, he would advise they hang 
a chandelier, — and that was as far as he 
got. The director, who had waited, and 
waited, and waited with a calm patience 
that had been exemplary, now flew all to 
pieces, and asked the cameraman “Why in 
thunder he hadn’t said so two hours ago? 
Why wait until they were ready to take 
the scene?” 

And the cameraman said it was not his 
business to design the sets, “don’t bawl me 
out because the technical director had 
slipped a cog; no one has shown me a 
script.” The poor cameraman had to guess 
whether it was day or night, or stormy, or 
a pensive gray light for retrospections ; no 
one told him the nature of the scene; and 
he sat up nights studying the various aurae 
the French psychics had discovered just for 
the sake of lighting people sympathetically, 
“and a property boy who knew no more 
about Art than a Zulu does about etiquette 
could have a script two weeks before a pro- 
duction, and he had better call him to light 
it! He was through!” 

Then the poor director sees — in his 
mind’s eye — his pet cameraman leaving the 
set, and pictures him working with his 
hated rival on a No. 2 set, and obtaining 
finer negative than he had ever seen ! There 
surges through him a feeling that the 
producer might lose a week, the backer 
might lose his money, but he will not lose 
his “pet” cameraman. So everybody is 
told to clear the stage. 

The director calls the cameraman, and 
asks him just where he wants the chande- 
lier — and the style of it — and the number 
of lights, and tells him to go and smoke a 
cigarette while it was being placed. 

Then he calls the property man and 
bawls him out for not having put a chan- 
delier on his list anyway. “You hear me 
— anyway — do that hereafter, have one 
anyway ! Now chase one as quickly as 
you can — any kind of chandelier — the 
quickest kind of chandelier you know how 
to hang! Hurry!” 

And this is how I had a chance to sit 



down by Jim, the old philosopher, who 
was happy playing extra parts, and was 
now on the sidelines addressing two or 
three who loved to listen to his wisdom. 
The Director hoped Jim was talking about 
“ Brotherhood ” his favorite topic, so he 
sat near him, and this is what he overheard : 

“You have just patted yourself on the 
back, my friend,” Jim said, addressing a 
nice-looking young fellow in front of him, 
“when you should have been kicking your- 
self for not focusing. Have you ever been 
in a projection room when they have been 
running the dailies, or the rushes, the 
rough work of the day before, and chanced 
to hear what the supervising director and 
the editors have said to a cameraman who 
took a scene out of focus? 

“There’s one place where the alibi won’t 
work. If a scene is out of focus, it is the 
fault of the cameraman, and if a screw is 
loose, or someone has kicked his tripod, it 
is the fault of the cameraman ! Do you 
get me? And if you are out of focus, it 
is your fault, because you adjust your own 
actions. Now you have just stated that 
you are a very good life insurance agent; 
can sell insurance to anybody you start 
after. Then, why in heck are you trying 
to act You are not a good actor, to my 
mind. 

“You have intelligence and look well, 
and you do what the director requests you 
to do, but that isn’t acting. Acting is living 
the part you are impersonating for the 
time being; thinking as he thinks; moving 
as he moves; being the character, and not 
yourself. 

“You make me think of an undertaker 
who thought he would put his profits into 
a more pleasant mode of living, so he 
started a green grocer’s establishment two 
doors away, and went into debt to finish 
building it. Then someone said ‘he sold 
bad vegetables in the hope of helping his 
undertaking trade,’ and the joke was told 
as a truth, and the people stopped trading 
at the store, and he failed and died, and 
proved himself a job for his own under- 
taking establishment. 

“Now, my boy, don’t think you can be 
a jack of all trades and succeed at them 
all. You must be a master of one thing 
today. You live in a day of specializing. 
If you take cognizance of directors — they 
specialize! One handles horses very much 
better than the rest. Another is a society 
director who knows society; how the ne 
plus ultra dresses and acts; another is suc- 
cessful with children ; another knows the 
West. See what I mean? Don’t flatter 
yourself that you are a good actor, but 



that you are a better insurance man. Go 
and be a still better insurance man, and 
give a real actor a chance to play your 
part. See what I mean by ‘focusing’ your- 
self?” 

And by this time the chandelier was 
hung; and the director rose, saying to him- 
self, “By George, I’m going to focus!” 

And he did! 



“Gag” Men Organize Club 

Now the “gag” men of movieland are 
to have their own social organization. The 
boys who put the ‘kicks’ in up-to-the-minute 
screen entertainment are organizing a so- 
ciety to be known as the “Re-writer’s Club” 
and they have asked Tom McNamara, 
who at various timejc in the past has 
“gagged” many pictures, to head the asso- 
ciation as president. However, as McNa- 
mara is no longer a “gagger” he has de- 
clined the office but has promised to assist 
in the perfecting of the organization. 

Members of the Re-writers earn their 
living by editing and improving on the ma- 
terial turned out by the personnel of the 
Writer’s Club — so they say. Be that as 
is may, the gag men are now to come into 
their own by boasting of as fine a club 
house as there is in all Hollywood. 



Billie Dove Becomes “Color Girl 
of Films” 

Billie Dove, appearing opposite Douglas 
Fairbanks in The Black Pirate, is rapidly 
becoming known as “The Color Girl of 
Pictures”. 

The reason is that Miss Dove has been 
specializing in color films ; in fact, she is a 
pioneer in this field. Her first fame as 
a featured player in an all-color picture 
came with her appearance in Irvin Willat’s 
production of the Zane Grey story, “Wan- 
derers of the Wasteland”. In this photo- 
play her rich coloring, quaint charm and 
buoyant personality proved her superiority 
in natural color pictures. In fact, her 
work in “Wanderers of the Wasteland” 
did much to influence Douglas Fairbanks’ 
selection of her for his lead in The Black 
Pirate, another epic in color. 



Hands As Character Indices 

Judging men by their hands, their man- 
ner, and their faces, as Conan Doyle made 
Sherlock Holmes do in his novels, isn’t as 
fantastic and practical as it may sound. 
According to Lon Chaney, it’s very prac- 
tical indeed. 

Chaney has made a lifelong study of 
reading character from external appear- 
ances, and often astounds co-workers at the 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios by wag- 
ering on his ability to tell at a glance a 
man’s occupation or antecedents. He sel- 
dom fails to win in his queer game. 

“Just a matter of observation — and de- 
duction,” he says. And he didn’t mean to 
quote Sherlock Holmes, either. 



62 



©Irector 



N ovembe) 



Side Lights on 

Production Costs 

By C. S. Dunning 



E VER5 business man realizes the 
value of a motion picture plant to 
a city, from the standpoint of publi- 
city and general advertising. 

But how many of them appreciate the 
value of a big motion picture concern pure- 
ly as a business asset — considered on the 
same footing as a cracker factory, a pack- 
ing house or an automobile plant ? 

Not many probably. Yet even a cursory 
survey of such a plant shows that, as a 
source of income to a city, it compares 
more than favorably with nearly any 
manufacturing industry that could be 
named. 

Take the United Studios, the big in- 
dependent lot of Southern California — the 
biggest independent lot in the world, in 
fact. A little conversation with M. C. 
Levee, President, and with R. W. Allison, 
his assistant, will give an idea of what 
such a plant means to a city. 

The United lot, you will learn in the 
first place, represents a standing invest- 
ment of $2,000,000 — land, buildings and 
property on the lot. Sometimes, owing to 
the vagaries of the business, the property 
may be greater or less in value, but that is 
about the average. 

The lot covers 27 J4 acres, about as 
much as a big factory. It has a regular 
pay-roll — exclusive of actors and including 
only the regular employees of the United 
Studios — of from $20,000 to $40,000 a 
week. 

There are never less than 350 persons 
regularly employed, and, in times of large 
production, which covers about half the 
year, there are from 500 to 700. 

To this, it may be only partially fair 
to add to the salaries of the actors and 
other employees of the companies which 
regularly produce at the United Studios. 
Still, if there was no plant, there would 
be no actors, so it is at least worth taking 
into consideration. 

Well, there are ten companies which 
produce regularly at the United Studios, 
including the First National. Norma and 
Constance Talmadge, Samuel Goldwyn, 
M. C. Levee, Frank Lloyd, Edwin Carewe 
and Rudolph Valentino. The income 
of some of the stars involved is so well 
known that it is scarcely mentioned. To 
add up that of all the actors who produce 
on the lot during the year would involve 
too much inter-company prying to be 
practicable. It can be approximated, how- 
ever, and, when it is, quite conservatively, 
it reaches the staggering sum of $2,000,- 
000 a year. 



At least half of that $2,000,000 — and 
probably more — goes back into the de- 
velopment of Hollywood and of the city 
of which it is a part, Los Angeles. 

With the studio employees, this makes 
a yearly payroll of at least $4,000,000, 
surely a sizeable addition to the wealth 
of any city, and something for the mer- 
chants and business men generally to re- 
gard with satisfaction. 

This is the outstanding item, as the pay- 
roll is always in industrial computations. 
But it is not all by any means. 

Studios require vast amounts of varie- 
gated materials. Many of these are ex- 
pensive; virtually all are purchased within 
the city. 

An example is lumber. The United 
Studios pay out an average of $200,000 a 
year for lumber, mostly to be used in the 
construction of sets and temporary build- 
ings. 

The electric light and power bills aver- 
age $1,500 a month — -and this in a city 
where electricity is much cheaper than in 
the average municipality. 

A paint bill of $20,000 a year is another 
item. 



T HE largest production schedule ever 
launched at LTiversal City will be 
projected at the “U” studios next 
season according to Edward J. Montagne, 
scenario editor, who announces a produc- 
tion budget in excess of $5,000,000. 

The next Mary Philbin vehicle will be 
Going Straight, from an original story by 
Raymond L. Schrock, being prepared by 
Monte Katterjohn. 

So far, three stories are in preparation for 
Reginald Denny; Byron Morgan’s The 
Love Thrill, being scenarized by Don Lee; 
Ray Cannon is preparing Follow the Signs; 
and the well-known play Rolling Home, 
by John Hunter Booth, is being done into 
script form by Rex Taylor. 

Laura La Plante will do Brides Will Be 
Brides, the famous story by Lucille Van 
Slyke. The scenario for this picture is be- 
ing prepared by Charles Kenyon. 

Hoot Gibson’s next big picture will be 
George W. Ogden’s The Cow Jerry, the 
script for which is now being made by 
Marian Jackson. 

Herbert Blache is making his own adap- 
tation of Crimes of the Armchair Club, as 
a special on the 1926 program. 



Stone and brick must sometimes be used 
in the building of sets, and this combined 
bill averages $5,000. 

Flowers and trees are often required, 
and nursery men and florists get an average 
of $10,000 per annum. 

Looking further down the list of ex- 
penditures, you find “salt” $500. You 
are puzzled as to what any business can 
do with $500 worth of salt. Then you 
remember that salt is the only thing which 
provides a good imitation of drifted snow, 
and you understand. Similarly, it is easy 
to explain an item of “paper, $500.” 
Paper is used for falling snow. 

A large item obtrudes. It is “canvas, 
$7,200.” Canvas is expensive, and great 
amounts of it are used for scenery. Some- 
times a thousand dollars worth is painted, 
and then scrapped. The scene does not 
suit. In its nature, the motion picture 
business must often seem extravagant and 
wasteful, but the city gets the benefit. 

Here are a few other entries which may 
give an idea of the steady outgo which 
makes a studio valuable to a city: Lime, 

$198; cement, $375; copper, $1,250; roof- 
ing, $740; floor wax, $670; pipe, $452; 
silk, $3,800; fan blowers, $800; ice, $1,- 
200; hose (fire) $350; glass, $1,058; 
furniture, $200,000 and cotton waste, $75. 

Similar items could be quoted by the 
yard. The United Studios, it must be 
understood, leases out its facilities to in- 
dependent producers, and gives them what 
they want when they order it, whether it 
is a grand piano or a baby-carriage. Con- 
sequently, its outlay is so variegated that 
it can almost be said there is no line of 
business it does not patronize. 



Edward J. Montagne and Harry Ditt- 
mar are collaborating in preparing the next 
big Edward Sedgwick production, The Big 
Gun, by Richard Barry. 

H arry Pollard will direct Poker Faces, 
by Edgar Franklin, the scenario for which 
is being done by Mel Brown. 

A big outdoor feature which will be 
made in the Fall, with the northern snow 
country as the location, is The Yukon 
Trail, by William McLeod Raine, being 
prepared by James Spearing. 

All rumors regarding the famous Har- 
riet Beecher Stowe novel, Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin, are set at rest by the announcement 
that A. P. Younger is now making the 
adaptation. 

Curtis is putting a big circus story into 
continuity form, The Trail of the Tiger, 
by Courtney Riley Cooper, master of ani- 
mal and circus tales. 

Svend Gade has begun production on a 
new Jewel, Wives for Rent, next week; 
William A. Seiter started Reginald Den- 
ny’s new starring vehicle, Skinner's Dress 
Suit, on Monday; and Lynn Reynolds has 
commenced The Rowdy, House Peters’ 
next picture. 



BIG PROGRAM FOR UNIVERSAL 



1925 



©irector 



63 



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change of ideas thus made possible efifect the closer understanding so much to be 
desired. 

Order your copy reserved for you on the news stand, or better yet, use the 
subscription blank below and let us mail it to you regularly. 



- t — v motion picture 

Published Monthly by ! ]') |TTV U /^>' ~ T~'ZAT) J- STUART BLACKTON, 

Director Publishing Corp. -I J l£v.C/V_y 1 President and Editor. 

1925 NORTH WILCOX AVENUE 
HOLLYWOOD, CALIF. 

Telephone HEmpstead 8227 

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64 



THE W.A.S.P.S 

By Edith M. Ryan 

A MONG the active clubs in Holly- 
wood is the Women’s Association, 
Screen Publicists, which was organ- 
ized about a year ago and which meets 
twice a month. One of the meetings is 
an open meeting when a member acts as 
chairman of the entertainment committee 
and in conjunction with the president, 
Carolyn Wagner, invites outside speakers 
and distinguished visitors in the city. Re- 
cent social affairs in October included a 
buffet supper given by the girls in honor 
of Agnes O’Malley, vice-president of the 
club, who has resigned from her post of 
director of publicity for the Mack Sennett 
studios to accept the position of assistant 
editor of Photoplay magazine in New 
\ ork. Miss O’Malley was further hon- 
ored, when the members in appreciation of 
her zeal for the club presented her with 
a handsome traveling bag, complete in 
every detail. 1 his affair was held at the 
home of Mrs. Wagner. 

* * * 

Margaret Ettinger, of the Metro-Gold- 
wyn-Mayer Studios, was club hostess for 
the second week in October when, a bril- 
liant dinner was held at the Writers’. 

* * * 

The leading event of the Wasp’s social 
calendar took place October 24, when they 
entertained at a dinner-dance at the Mont- 
martre in honor of the film magazine 
writers. 

* * * 

Carolyn Wagner has accepted a position 
as coast publicity representative on special 
productions for the Davis Distributing 
Corporation of New York and is now 
busily engaged on an extensive publicity 
and exploitation campaign for The Red 
Kimona, Mrs. Wallace Reid’s latest ve- 
hicle. 



director 
KING VIDOR 

The Man on the Cover 

(Continued from Page 24-) 

Turn in the Road. That night he wrote 
out the scenario. This time nobody 
laughed, for in The Turn of the Road 
were all the elements that go to make up 
a genuine feature production. 

That was eight years ago. Determina- 
tion, persistency, sincerity and a keen hu- 
man understanding have enabled him to 
force steadily to the top. His Wild 
Oranges, The Jack Knife Alan, Peg O 
Aly Heart, His Hour and other notable 
achievements have been stepping stones that 
have carried him steadily upward in a 
career that has been fittingly crowned today 
with his magnificent production of The 
Big Parade. 

And this time when the very Big Parade 
came into sight, the camera did not jam, 
and as the World War marched by, each 
thought, each feeling of that great conflict 
was captured and translated to the screen 
in a masterpiece of motion picture directing. 



THE NIGHT BRIDE 

(Continued from Page 32) 

edition, I feel sure Cynthia would like to 
see. It concerns her wedding. Could you, 
by any chance, see that she gets it right 
away? I’d like to have her read it before 
the ceremony.” 

“Why, certainly, ma’am,” said the broad 
bosomed fellow. ‘‘I’m sure Miss Cynthia 
would be glad to read anything appertain- 
ing to her wedding.” 

He took the paper and started up the 
stairs. 

Clotilde’s eyes narrowed, and her heart 
beat a rapid tatoo of exhultation. 

“Who knows,” she breathed through 
clenched teeth. “Perhaps the fight isn’t lost 
yet.” 

(to be continued) 



November 

Richard Thomas Takes 
Over Berwilla Studios 

T HE Berwilla Studios in Hollywood 
will, in the future, be known as the 
Richard Thomas Productions 
Studio. This move will add another to 
the list of modern producing plants in 
Southern California and is another spike 
in the guns of the Eastern claimants of 
New York and Florida as future capitals 
of the film world. 

The capitalists who have invested in the 
Richard Thomas organization are Los An- 
geles and San Francisco men, making it 
the first motion picture firm with an all- 
California backing. 

Thomas himself has to his credit 27 
pictures which he has produced and 
directed. The most recent ones, The 
Love Pirate and Phantom Justice, were 
distributed through F. B. O. 

The present plans of the company in- 
clude eight all-star feature dramatic films 
per year ; the first will be a screen version 
of William Dudley Pellev’s Saturday 
Evening Post story, What Women Love. 
Albert Shelby Levino has already com- 
pleted the adaptation. 

The Richard Thomas Studio, will be 
remodelled at a cost of $100,000, accord- 
ing to plans drawn up by A. F. Mantz, 
Hollywood architect. The executive 
building will he covered with stucco and 
raised to a height of two full stories. Im- 
portant changes will also be made in the 
interior of the studio. The new equip- 
ment will include a lumber mill, a series 
of projection rooms, a large wardrobe de- 
partment and suite of dressing rooms for 
the players besides entirely new electrical 
equipment. In the intervals between 
shooting, Thomas plans to rent stage space 
to other independent companies. The 
studio will be completed about the early 
part of December and at that time 
actual filming will begin on What 
W omen Love, the first Richard Thomas 
production. 



,.^„r- S 1! ATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24. 1912, OF 
THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR," PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA, FOR OCTOBER, 1925. 

State of California, County of Los Angeles, ss. : 

Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and County aforesaid, appeared RICHMOND WHARTON, who, having been duly sworn according to law, 
deposes and says that he is the BUSINESS MANAGER of THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR and that the foUowing is, to the best of his knowledge and 
i qio 3 , tru 5 st ^ te,T l ent . °f the ownership, management, etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required by the Act of August 24, 

1912, embodied in Section 443, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wot: 

That the names and addresses of the publishers, editor, managing editor, and business manager are: Publisher, Director Publishing Corporation, 1925 No. 

w ilcox Ave., Hollywood, Calif. ; Editor, Geo. L. Sargent, 1925 No. Wilcox Ave., Hollywood, Calif. ; Managing Editor, Bernard A. Holway, 1925 No. Wilcox Ave., 

Hollywood, Calif. ; Business Manager, Richmond Wharton, 1925 No. Wilcox Ave., Hollywood, Calif. 

2. That the owner is DIRECTOR PUBLISHING CORPORATION, 1925 No. Wilcox Ave., Hollywood, Calif. (No stockholders.) 

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Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th day of September, 1925. RICHMOND WHARTON, Business Manager. 

(Seal) GILBERT S. WRIGHT, Notary Public. 

(My commission expires April 10, 1928.) 



On location , in the studio 



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‘A Better Understanding Between Those Who See and Those Who Make Pictures 



Volume 1 1 
Number 7 



Bernard A. Holway 

Managing Editor 



MOTION PICTURE 




J. Stuart Blackton 

Editor 



CONTENT 

Clarence Brown [Design by Harold IF. Miles J .... 

The Open Door . . 

In the Director’s Chair 

Screen Personalities 

Norma Plays Kiki 

Lucretia Borgia 

Motherhood and the Screen 

Bride of the Storm 

Drafting the Brains of Europe for the American Screen 

The Man on the Cover 

Capitalizing Opportunity 

Bill Beaudine Says, “Leave it to Me ! ” . 

The Motor Car Trend for 1926 

Brewster’s Millions a la Mode 

The Jewel Ballet from “The Midnight Sun” 

Hollywood Builds New Temples to Art 
Three Bad Men in “The World of Promise” 

As Worrfon the Screen 

America’s Sweetheart, Yesterday and Today 

Follies Girls on the Screen 

Individuality 

Laura La Plante 

A Home to be Enjoyed 

What is a Wampas and Why? 

Memories of Yesteryear 

Angle Shots Around Hollywood Studios 

What the Directors are Doing 

Fraternities of the Screen 

Illustrations and Headings 



. J. Stuart Blackton 



Jay Brien Chapman 
Posed by Estelle Taylor 
Irene Rich 
Fred Applegate 



Frank A. Murray 



. Sally Long 
Ethel Painter Chaffin 



George Landy 
Bernard A. Holway 



February 

1926 



Jay Brien Chapman 

Assistant Editor 



Cover 

2 

3 

4 
10 

14 

15 
18 
20 
22 

23 

24 

25 
29 
32 
34 
36 

39 

40 
42 
45 

47 

48 
50 

52 

53 
56 
58 



Charles H. Bird 



Wallace Woodbury 



Published monthly by The Director Publishing Corporation, 1925 N. Wilcox Ave., Hollywood, California. 
J. Stuart Blackton, president and editor; William Beaudine, vice-president; Frank Cooley, secretary-treasurer; 
Richmond Wharton, business manager; Tim Crowley, professional advertising, Blanchard-Nichols-Coleman ; 
general advertising representatives, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle. Single copies 25 cents, yearly subscrip- 
tion, $2.50. Entered as second class matter, October 1, 1925, at the postoffice in Los Angeles, California, under the 
Act of March 3, 1879. 

PRINTED IN U.S.A. 



2 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




From Those 



Who See To Those Who Make Motion Pictures 



Editor, 

The Motion Picture Director: 

In recent issues you have asked your 
readers to express themselves freely in re- 
gard to the pictures that they see and the 
pictures that they would like to see. You 
have told us in your editorials that, through 
The Motion Picture Director maga- 
zine, we have an “open door” to the pro- 
ducers of pictures. Accordingly I want 
to register my vote for the type of film 
that I really like and enjoy. 

Motion pictures to me are not just mere 
entertainment but virtually a panacea for 
all human ills. When one is in a joyous 
mood one goes joyously to a downtown 
theatre or to a neighborhood house and 
enjoys a good picture. When one is blue, 
in the dumps, one goes to the films to for- 
get and to get away from one’s self. At 
all times pictures take one out of one’s 
self and into a land of romance, and ad- 
venture. One the silver sheet we see often 
ourselves in romantic roles — as we would 
like to be, perhaps. 

Taking these things into consideration 
I believe that I am speaking for many 
others when I say that the films that are 
most enjoyable are those that entertain and 
amuse, that take one’s thoughts from one- 
self and one’s own problems and leave one 
with a pleasant feeling of having, for the 
time at least, completely lost one’s self in 
the entertainer. 

The intensely dramatic picture, on the 
other hand, not only is depressing but be- 
cause of its intensity frequently proves an 
emotional strain that is exceedingly tiring. 
Personally I incline to the belief that the 
American people of today more thoroughly 
enjoy the lighter themes. Such pictures as 
“Best People” for instance with its delici- 
ous satire are thoroughly enjoyable. One 
relishes the satire, one enjoys the dramatic 
features, the suspense of the plot and work- 
ing out of the story to the happy ending 
that we Americans so insistently demand. 
It so happened that on the same evening 
that I saw “Best People” I also saw a 
preview of “Dance Madness.” I went 



into the theatre tired and out of sorts, I 
came away refreshed and with the feeling 
that I had had an enjoyable time. While 
much more dramatic I have enjoyed equally 
as much “The Merry Widow” and “The 
Eagle.” In neither instance was there the 
dramatic intensity nor the emotional strain 
that I have referred to. 

Just the other evening I attended the 
preview of what is probably a big produc- 
tion. It features a famous star and a 
strong cast of film favorites. It was di- 
rected by a director who has made a not- 
able name for himself as the director of 
unusually powerful pictures. It was 
adapted from a world-famous story. Yet I 
came away worn out — exhausted. The 

tenseness of the dramatic suspense, the 
vividness of the emotional scenes and the 
unhappy ending left me depressed and re- 
gretting the evening spent. I am making 
no quarrel with the unhappy ending in 
this instance. It had to be in order faith- 
fully to follow the original story. To do 
otherwise would be to have created a pic- 
ture that had no excuse for being. But 
even without that ending the story left a 
“bad taste.” 

Undoubtedly such a picture will appeal 
to people who seem to derive a certain de- 
gree of enjoyment from morbid scenes. 
Probably it would be a tremendous success 
in Europe. But to me it is the antithesis 
of the type of production that American 
audiences desire and really enjoy. 

The American people are living essen- 
tially in the present. We are keyed to a 
high pitch all the time and, whether we 
realize it or not, under a constant nervous 
strain, — a feeling that we must keep up 
with the procession. Yesterday has gone, 
tomorrow never comes. It is today that 
counts. “Then, why mourn for about 
what is gone or worry about what is to 
come?” may be said to be an expression of 
the national outlook on life. It is in such 
a spirit that we attend the motion picture 
theatres, seeking relaxation, amusement 
and relief from the every day problems of 
life. Give us pictures that entertain with- 



out engendering emotional exhaustion and 
you will give us pictures that we, who 
constitute the American theatre-going pub- 
lic, thoroughly enjoy. 

M. j. D., Los Angeles. 



Editor, 

The Motion Picture Director: 

I am very much interested in the making 
of moving pictures, especially after reading 
about “Ben Hur.” 

I think that moving pictures are nearly 
as valuable as educational matter as they 
are for entertainment. For a few cents 
we can see before our eyes “How the other 
side of the world lives.” Every school 
should use more educational pictures in the 
class room. I think they would make more 
impression on the young mind than hours 
of study. We use them in the Navy to 
instruct our Engineers in operation of new 
machinery. For preserving historical events 
they have no equal and to my rather in- 
experienced mind they should he placed 
side by side with steam engines, telephones, 
radio, automobiles and electric lights in 
everyday usefulness. 

I am very anxious to be allowed the 
privilege of visiting some large studio with 
soneone who can explain the “inner work- 
ings.” Some time ago a certain moving 
picture company took a few “shots” aboard 
this vessel. They didn’t cause us one bit 
of inconvenience; in fact, they caused a lot 
of enjoyment. The director said he 
would show us the finished product some 
evening. The evening arrived and he said 
he was bringing a few of the actors along. 

When they came on board there were 
about twenty persons. The picture was 
shown and a very interesting picture too, 
featuring the life of a Navy man on sea 
and on shore. To us, who know the Navy 
Man on shipboard it was very true to life, 
and great credit is due the director and 
company for their excellent acting. The 
picture was full of comedy and thrills. 
Not only did they honor us with their 

(Continued on Page 68) 



1926 

The Battle of 
Bunker Hill 

BOUT the year 
1900, the motion 
picture appeared 
and in ten years it began to 
take its place with the kindred 
arts, Literature and the Drama. 

Today, literature and the 
drama enjoy the same freedom 
of expression that was their 
heritage from the War of In- 
dependence. 

Today, the motion picture is 
the victim of a pernicious and 
growing class legislation. 

In the year 1909, the writer 
produced a two-reel historical 
film portraying the life of George Washington. 

Then an unbelievable thing happened ! 

Our Chicago office wired that the Chicago Board of Censors, 
headed by one Major Funkhauser, refused to permit the showing 
of our Washington film unless we eliminated the Battle of Bunker 
Hill and the Siege of Yorktown. 

Further particulars convinced us that it was not a huge joke 
as we first suspected. The redoubtable Funkhauser and his mis- 
guided associates were in deadly earnest. 

When asked for an explanation, he pointed to Clause V in the 
list of scenes and action subject to elimination under the local 
censorship board’s ruling. There it was, in black and white: 
“Clause V. It shall be a misdemeanor to exhibit in moving pic- 
tures on the screen in any public place, scenes showing firearms 
being used with intent to kill, and such scenes shall be eliminated 
before a permit can be issued for exhibition.” 

The Battle of Bunker Hill and the Siege of Yorktown typified 
the beginning and end of the Colony’s struggle for freedom, but 
the Colonial and British troops were “using firearms with intent 
to kill,” and so the stupid censors, in their doltish and destructive 
ignorance, applied Clause V to the case in hand without regard 
to the injury it worked upon those who made the picture and 
those who wanted to see it. 

As a matter of fact there is no need for censorship as it is 
imposed on the American screen. The sternest censors of motion 
pictures after all are, first, the public itself, and secondly, the 
exhibitors — the men who show the films. The big, high-class 
theatres will not debase themselves by showing the type of pictures 
that is essentially censorable. The neighborhood theatres would 
not dare to show them. Such houses cater to a regular clientele 
which would quickly draw away were pictures of a genuinely 
objectionable nature to be shown. 

If a picture is so bad that it is not fit to be exhibited anywhere 
there are very plainly worded laws on the statutes of every com- 
munity providing for just such contingencies. But as a whole the 
petty censorship imposed by the self-appointed censors of the 
smaller communities accomplishes nothing and is seriously dam- 
aging the picture that is made for and belongs to the American 
public. 

The very people who are themselves most directly affected by 
censorship — the theatre patrons of the country — are the ones who 
have it in their hands effectively to eradicate a censorship that 
arbitrarily imposes its will and its whims on the screen and per- 
mits literature and the dramatic stage complete freedom of 
expression. 

Suppose, for instance, that every novel that is written were 
at the mercy of local censors, that before the people of a 
community could buy it or read it, it had to be reviewed by 
the local censor boards. Suppose that every traveling theatrical 



3 

company when arriving at a 
new city or town had to change 
the lines and rehearse the show 
in order to conform to some no- 
tion of the community censors, 
what kind of a play would it 
be? Certainly it would soon 
cease to be the author’s work 
as originally conceived and 
presented. 

Actually this censorship ques- 
tion does not affect the producer 
of films one-half as much as it 
affects the rights of the public 
in the kind of picture they want 
to see. And the people have at 
their hands the most potent of 
weapons to combat pernicious 
censorship in the power of 
public demand, a power that, 
expressed at the box office, has 
greater force than all attempts at regulation exerted by individu- 
ally created censor boards. 

Let us for a moment consider the film situation in Russia. In 
a recent article in The Film Daily Ernest W. Fredman explains 
that in Russia the government recognizes what a force the cinema 
plays in the lives of their people. The government controls films 
by a state department under the name of Sovkino that entirely 
deals with the film industry. The Sovkino is a big renting organ- 
ization which has the monopoly in film renting throughout the 
whole of Soviet Russia and to whom every foreign country sells 
its product. A stranger to a Moscow or Leningrad cinema gets 
the complete shock of his life when he sees an American picture. 
If it is a social drama and contains scenes of high life, it is either 
cut to shreds or it is twisted about so as to convey propaganda 
that the rich are living at the expense of the poor. 

Native production gets preference and, as almost every one of 
these films has propaganda of some kind, it can be easily under- 
stood how the Soviet subtly weaves its ideas into the minds of the 
people. 

The Censor Board is very strict in Russia. They view every- 
thing from the revolutionary point of view. Films in which mon- 
archy is portrayed are utterly taboo; kissing frowned upon, and 
all Biblical films have been banned. 

Not much difference between Funkhauser and Sovkino, except 
in the spelling. 

One hundred and fifty years ago, the war for independence was 
fought and won. Our forefathers fought and died for the high 
principles of Liberty — liberty of thought, liberty of speech, liberty 
of action, liberty of government “of the people, for the people, 
by the people.” 

For nearly one hundred and fifty years this country rejoiced in 
what was recognized throughout the civilized world as the most 
perfect form of government. Class legislation was not permitted 
and trades, professions, societies, religions and the arts and sciences 
were allowed full freedom of expression. If they transgressed 
the laws and statutes based upon the Constitution of the United 
States, means were provided by law to punish them. It was not 
until censorship singled out the motion picture, over fifteen years 
ago, that class legislation began to be permitted and suffered. 
Motion picture censorship was the original Sovkino. Censorship 
is class legislation pure and simple. It prohibits the cinema from 
doing what the press can do with complete freedom. It denies 
the motion picture the freedom enjoyed by literature and the 
drama. It very definitely indicates that the police and other 
proper authorities deemed competent to handle every sort of crime, 
are incapable of exercising control over motion pictures. 

Censorship could easily be considered as the greatest laugh of 
the century if it were not working such injury to the very prin- 
ciples for which the patriots fought at the Battle of Bunker Hill. 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 




THE 

DIRECTORS CHAIR 

J. Stuart Blackton 




4 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Melbourne Spurr 

Pola Negri in pensive mood. She is finishing her first pro- 
duction for Paramount tinder the direction of Dimitri 
Buchowetski to be released under the title “Because I 
Love You.” 







19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



5 








Melbourne Spurr 



Alice Terry is again to play the feminine lead in Paris-made 
productions for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and has returned to 
Paris where she will rejoin her director-husband , 
Rex Ingram. 





6 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Melbourne Spurr 



Marion Davies in her new production , “ Beverly of Grau- 
stark”, is introducing some spectacular thrills that promise 
genuine entertainment. 





19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



7 




Marie Prevost, following a successful career in featured 
leads at fV arner Brothers, has now been signed by Metro- 
politan and elevated to full stardom. 




8 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 






Hartsook 

Lilyan Tashman found January a busy month , appearing in 
Metropolitan' s production of “ IV hispering Smith ” and being 
loaned to Fox for an important part in “Siberia.” 









19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



9 







— 



te-.' i -- ' ' 

: V •;'< •= •. V 









— 







Harold Dean Carsey 



Ronald Colman as Renal in the Norma Talmadge produc- 
tion of “ Kiki ” is giving the screen another of his convincing 
portrayals, particularly when cast in a French role. 





■ ' - 


















- 















10 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Norma Talmadge is playing " Kiki” as the lovable, fiery little bundle of impudence appears on the stage, a role so utterly at 
variance with her customary portrayals as to cause one to wonder, “Is this Norma Talmadge, or a totally different person 

whom we have never met before?” 





1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



11 





r 1 "A HE announcement 
several months ago 
X that Norma Tal- 
madge would make “Kiki” 
as her first contribution to 
motion picture theatregoers 
for 1926, caused a great 
deal of speculation within 
the motion picture indus- 
try. 

While interest was fo- 
cused on the question of 
what Miss T a 1 m a d g e 
would do with a role so 
different from those she 
usually portrays, as that of- 
fered by Belasco’s sensa- 
tional stage success, a wider 
significance attaches to the 
making of “Kiki” and the 
success or failure of an in- 
dividual production. 

No one can doubt the 
ability of Miss Talmadge 
as an actress. If she were 
merely a versatile charac- 
ter woman, there would be 
no question of her ability 
to please the public in the 
role of “Kiki.” But she is 
more than a capable actress. 

She is a star whose great 
popularity has created two 
distinct Norma Talmadges. 

One of these Talmadges 
is the actress herself, apart 
from her reputation. The 
other is the formidable Norma Talmadge 
of the public mind, who, as one of the 
screen’s best-known and best-loved person- 
alities, belongs not to herself but to her 
audience. It is this second personage, and 
not the first, who may be limited in her 
capacity for versatility; not by her ability 
but by the conception of her that dwells 
in the minds of this great audience. 

Her case is not unique. Chaplin might 
excel his own record of artistic achieve- 
ment if he were to turn to tragedy — but 
could the Chaplin who lives in the public 
mind be replaced by another, however ca- 
pable? Mary Pickford is another of sev- 
eral of today’s stars who are bound to a 
general type of role by the shackles of 
popularity — and one may ever go beyond 
the beginning of motion pictures and con- 
sider the stage for further examples. Sarah 
Bernhardt was always the divine Sarah of 
the public’s conception, a great actress 
whose genius deprived her of the privilege 
of versatility. 

The fact that the role of “Kiki” is so 



great a departure from the portrayal of 
the certain definite type which has made 
her famous, injects considerable suspense 
into the present speculation in film circles 
regarding the success of her undertaking. 
The question arising in their minds is, will 
the public accept Norma Talmadge as com- 
edienne, and in the role of a French gutter- 
snipe? 

The launching of a star of such power- 
ful reputation into a character vehicle so 
different from those upon which she had 
built her fame is a courageous venture, 
and one in which the whole motion picture 
industry has something at stake. Her suc- 
cess as “Kiki” may be the means of de- 
stroying certain musty traditions now ex- 
isting which have heretofore discouraged 
individual producers and artists from de- 
parting from “type.” A greater variety of 
expression, and as a result, a greater free- 
dom from box office limitations may be 
established. 

Even if “Kiki” should not be received 
with favor by her public, Miss Talmadge 



will have achieved a defi- 
nite accomplishment as 
well as having succeeded in 
a courageous venture. And 
the point proved will be 
that a star - personality, 
built through adherence to 
a single general type of 
role until it dominates in- 
dividual ambition, but con- 
tinue to prevail, so that the 
star of outstanding reputa- 
tion cannot be allowed to 
exceed certain limits of 
versatility without suffer- 
ing temporary retrogres- 
sion in the public favor. 

Norma Talmadge is 
playing “Kiki” as that lov- 
able, fiery little bundle of 
impudence appears on the 
stage, and the production 
and technical staffs under 
j Director Clarence Brown 
are giving the screen play 
a background of color, at- 
mosphere and setting that 
fully takes advantage of 
the cinema’s greater facili- 
ties in this direction. 

Standing, one afternoon, 
in the heart of the famous 
Montmartre section of 
| Paris — or to be more accu- 

rate, standing beside the 
1 cameras that were filming 
a very fine reproduction of 
that section as it had been built on the 
United Studio lot — the impression of the 
screen’s vast resources came to me with 
unusual force. 

It was a bustling street scene, filled with 
the polyglot, cosmopolitan crowd that 
throngs that section of the Parisian’s play- 
ground. The old buildings of the Mont- 
martre shouldered each other down the 
street and vanished around a corner in the 
foreground. The narrow pavements were 
crowded with push carts, omnibuses, bicy- 
cles and Renaults of all vintages. On the 
sidewalks was a colorful mingling of various 
foreign types and individuals. An artist 
with a framed canvas under his arm hur- 
ried along close to the wall. A gendarme 
flirted with a saucy girl who was burdened 
with various hat boxes. A street gamin, 
feminine gender, offered papers to the pass- 
ers-by, her stand the vantage point of an 
omnibus “Stop.” 

I looked around for the star, and in do- 
ing so, unconsciously looked for Norma 
Talmadge as I had come to know her in 



12 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




The old buildings of the Montmartre shouldered each other down 



the street and vanished around a 
that throngs that section of 



previous productions. Suddenly I real- 
ized, with a shock, that my eye had passed 
her as casually as I have described, in the 
above scene, the character she represented 
— that of the little paper seller! 

Truly, Miss Talmadge was playing 
“Kiki” as we know her from the stage. 
The stately Norma of “Graustark,” had 
become the true Parisian street gamin, the 



saucy model for everyone’s rags, instead of 
being merely superimposed upon the per- 
sonality of Miss Talmadge. 

Ronald Colman, in the part of Victor 
Renal, has many opportunities particularly 
suited to his ability, and Gertrude Astor, 
who plays the role of “Paulette,” is an 
admirable foil for the star as well as the 
villainness of the piece. Marc McDermott 



as “Baron Rapp” is another antagonist in 
the play, while the more-than-ordinarily 
interesting servant role of “Adolphe” rests 
with the capable George K. Arthur. 

The task of adapting the Belasco stage 
play to fit the requirements, utilize the fa- 
cilities of and conform to the limitations of 
the screen was entrusted to Hans Kraly, 
whose splendid work in adapting “Her 







1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



13 




corner in the foreground . ... a bustling street scene, filled with the polyglot, cosmopolitan crowd 
the Parisian s playground. 



Sister from Paris” has won him a high 
place in the scenario field. 

Judging by the detailed synopsis of 
“Kiki”, Mr. Kraly has done equally good 
work with the harder problems it involves. 
Harder because of the fact that in visual- 
izing the action of the star, Kraly was 
obliged to create, in his own mind at least, 
a new version of Norma Talmadge. 



Those who have been fortunate enough 
to have seen the play in New York or 
elsewhere may have heard that the Ameri- 
can stage versions differed somewhat from 
the French that may have been made, are 
probably to spare the feelings of the cen- 
sors. The screen version which must be 
offered to an audience so widely opinion- 
ated, has probably been slightly toned 



down from the stage version for the same 
reason, but it has not suffered in dramatic 
interest in the process. 

The screen play will introduce “Kiki” 
as the guttersnipe of the Paris streets, 
seller of papers in the Montmarte. Dif- 
ficulties with her landlady threatens her 
with eviction, but instead of paying her 
" (Continued on Page 64) 



14 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Estelle Taylor 

As she will appear in 
the role of Lucretia 
Borgia opposite John 
Barrymore in the 
forthcoming W arner 

Bros, production o f 
Don Juan". Cos- 
tume of green velvet 
trimmed with gold and 
silver lace, diamonds 
and pearls, designed by 
Sophie IV agner. Photo 
by Harold Dean 
Carsey. 




7 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



15 




Irene Rich as “ Lady Windemere” 



Motherhood a7id the Screen 



uv OU can’t be a real mother to your 
| children and an actress too!” they 
told me. 

“They” were the usual groups of friends 
and relatives who surround anyone who is 
going into motion pictures, or to move to 
another state, or to choose a college or to 
buy a hat. 

“It’s a matter of duty to the kiddies,” 
they continued. “You know what the 
screen career is. It isn’t fair to the children 
to take them into that atmosphere, or to 
take their mother away from them.” 

“On the contrary,” I replied, “I’m go- 
ing into motion pictures because of the 
children.” 

A gasp ! They all looked at my mother 
who, bless her sensible heart, was on my 
side. 

“I don’t know what the screen career 
is,” I continued, “and if you’ll pardon my 
saying so, dear friends, neither do you. 
But I have reason to believe that as a 
motion picture actress I can raise the 
children in a better atmosphere, can give 
them a better home, a better education and 
more of my own care than I could if I 
were going to become a stenographer, a 
bookkeeper, a — ” 

“But, my dear girl! Surely you know 
that there are such occupations as profes- 



hi/ Irene Rich 

sional hostess, social secretary and others 
in which one’s social training may be cap- 
italized — ” 

“And one’s time monopolized!” I re- 
torted. I’m afraid I wasn’t altogether po- 
lite or considerate, but as a matter of fact 
I was secretly agitated. In spite of careful 
consideration of the problem, and arrival 
at a decision that I had no intention of 
changing, I had little disquieting fears — 
little jangling nerves that were easily 
aroused to the “jumpy” state. 

“I am going into motion pictures as I 
would enter a business venture,” I said. 
“I’ll have a sinking fund. I’ll be pre- 
pared to wait for business. I’ll invest in 
ways and means of attracting business, such 
as advertising and publicity. If I fail I 
can always try to find some other market 
for my personality and limited talents.” 

“You’re going into it, child, because 
you’re caught by the lure of acting, just as 
any silly little girl with no responsibilities 
might rush to Hollywood and destruction!” 
The speaker was a friend old enough and 
dear enough to speak her thoughts without 
reserve — and on this occasion she spared 
me nothing. 



“I plead guilty of feeling the lure, as 
you call it,” I said, “but it isn’t just the 
glamor of the thing. I’ve always wanted 
to try acting for the screen, because of the 
scope of the medium. Now I have an added 
incentive in the matter of its financial ap- 
peal. If I do succeed, I can do more for 
the children than I could do in any other 
way, I’m sure. So — ” 

Every time I hear of any girl or woman 
breaking the home ties and launching forth, 
from some distant circle of friends and 
familiar atmosphere, into the struggle for 
film success in Hollywood, I think of that 
scene. No doubt it is rather typical, for 
if children do not figure in the problem, 
inexperience in life or any one of many 
obstacles will be held up before the eyes of 
the aspirant to career, and magnified, I 
believe, beyond a just proportion. 

I’ll add my voice to those of the many 
who have said that the screen career offers 
no broad, easy highway of approach, no 
flower-strewn path of progress, no sinecure 
when success arrives. But we cannot keep 
up with the bandwagon of the times and 
still preserve those ideas of the not distant 
past that if possible girls should be kept 
from seeking a career other than that of 
marriage. 

Duty to children? As I saw mine, it 




16 



THE 



MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



was to give them the best in the way of 
education and surroundings that I could 
procure for them, plus home life in their 
tender years, and their mother’s own care, 
love and attention. I was not entirely 
confident of screen success, and I did not 
know for sure that I could, in pictures, do 
what I hoped to do for my two girls. But 
I had thought it over carefully, and decided 
to try. 

I have never been sorry. 

The girls are growing older. Now, hav- 
ing attained a degree of success in my 
work, and a degree of experience and in- 
sight into the screen as a career, I can 
bring not only the point of view of the 
actress to bear, but also that of the mother 
whose girls will some day seek careers of 
their own, I know the mother’s fears. 
Knowing, too, the spirit of independence 
in the kiddies, I have decided not to try 
to raise them in the way I was raised, but 
to prepare them for whatever may come in 
this lively age of ours, not only by giving 
them the best cultural advantage possible, 
but by aiding and abetting their natural 
wish for independence. 

They’re now in Switzerland, adding fin- 
ishing touches to their preparatory educa- 
tion, and learning for the first time what it 
is to do without their mother. I’m now in 
Hollywood, trying to learn to do without 
them. And deep down in my heart, 1 
have a feeling that my lesson is the harder 
to learn! 

A thing that has impressed me during 
my travels — not that portion of them 
abroad, but in our own dear homeland — is 
the fact that Hollywood and New York 
no longer stand apart from the rest of the 
country. The radio, the motion picture, 
the printed word, the transportation facili- 
ties have lit the fires under the melting 
pot. The city dweller and the country 
dweller are fusing in temperament; the 
small townsman and the about-town-folk 
of the great cities are thinking alike. These 
things, of course, apply with greatest force 
to the new generation, and that is why, 
with bewildering rapidity, some of the 
older generation are losing perspective. 

As a motion picture actress familiar with 
the supposedly sophisticated and ultra- 
modern life of Hollywood, I’m amazed to 
find that I am nearly as far behind the 
generation to which my children belong as 
some dear friends of mine are in their 
home in a country town in the east. Emo- 
tionally, I’m sometimes at war with the 
new conditions; intellectually, I’m not, for 
I perceive that these times are wonderful 
ones, that our young folk are wonderful 
young folk, and that if there is a bit of 
chaos, it is because of the lack of adjust- 
ment. The children go too far in seeking 
independence; the parents put too much 
pressure on the reins. 

It is because we who have children, 
though our own childhood isn’t so terribly 
far distant, are far behind the generation 
into which our children are growing. We 



contributed to the bringing about of a 
degree of independence and equality with 
men, of our women-folk. We, in fact, 
created the environment that is shaping 
the much-talked-of new generation, and 
we tend to sit back and contemplate our 
work with a bit of fear, simply because it 
has grown beyond us. 

It would seem that we must be edu- 
cated, that we must take forward steps, 
that we must strive to understand our chil- 
dren and their problems rather than striv- 
ing to make them understand our own, 
unless we are quite, quite sure that we 
understand the problems which, far beyond 
any control that parents can exercise, con- 
front the new generation. 

The fact that country and city have 
been brought closer together by a process 
of amalagamation of thought brings the 
career of a film star and that of a wife 
and mother nearer to each other. More 
girls who sincerely feel and respond to the 
urge for artistic expression through the 
shadow-stage medium, are going to attempt 
the film career. More women whose mar- 
ital barques have been upset by death or 
unhappiness are going to turn to the screen 
instead of to second marriages or millinery. 

As happily married women seek inde- 
pendent careers (and that is one of the 
newest and most rapidly growing customs 
of our times that has come to my atten- 
tion), more and more of these will turn 
to motion pictures as well as to other ar- 
tistic careers. And I wish to say here that 
if such women have children, there is no 
reason why they cannot give those children 
proper mother love, care and personal at- 
tention while pursuing screen success. If 
success does come, the children inevitably 
will be benefited. 

The picture actress does keep very busy, 
when success comes her way — and yet there 
is plenty of time, ordinarily, to keep in 
touch with children as a mother should. 
If her own mother, the children’s grand- 
mother, is there, so much the better; that 
was an advantage I enjoyed. 

The “atmosphere” of Hollywood as it 
concerns the children of professional folk, 
is just as much one of the home as any, 
except, perhaps, for a little note of artistic 
enthusiasm that enters it everywhere. The 
note of artistic enthusiasm I mention is 
healthy rather than otherwise. Bringing 
my theory home again, for the sake of il- 
lustration : I do not believe that my pro- 
fession, my study of the screen art, or 
friends from the studios introduced into 
my home socially, in any way adversely 
affected the welfare of my children. At 
the same time, we were kept alive men- 
tally by that enthusiasm I have men- 
tioned, brought into our home by those 
contacts. 

There was none of that, “Oh, dear — 
another dead, weary old day past — nothing 
to do until tomorrow!” attitude. I was 
vitally and constantly interested in my 



work, and the children to a certain degree 
shared my enthusiasm. They were brought 
up with an attitude of interest toward 
work, in general, that, I think, will go 
along with them into whatever careers 
they may elect to follow. 

Another important point in connection 
with their moulding in the environment of 
a screen actress’ home — they will never 
invest the idea of a career in pictures, on 
the stage, or in any other line of endeavor, 
with false glamour. To them any sort of 
art will appear simply a very interesting, 
absorbing kind of work. 

They have studied the screen with me, 
and if any phase of their environment has 
tended to make them precocious, it is that. 
But the development they were given in 
that way is along the lines of close, accu- 
rate observation and criticism. It was bal- 
anced by physical development and outdoor 
sport of the healthiest sort, and I believe 
that the result will be faculties of quick, 
accurate judgment; of self-criticism as well 
as criticism of others, and a well-balanced 
healthy temperament. 

Living in the picture atmosphere, we 
probably saw no greater number of pic- 
tures within any given period of time, than 
the average family does. But for my own 
sake as well as that of the children, I was 
careful to analyze, within their hearing, 
the pictures we did see. Insofar as I was 
able, I separated for them the true from 
the false, the real from the actual, the 
good from the bad. 

“Why did so-and-so do such-and-such a 
thing, mamma?” was a question frequently 
asked. 

There might be a perfectly logical rea- 
son I could explain to them. Or, if it was 
one of those slips of the artist in mirroring 
life, often to be found in the best of films, 
I would blame it on the person I thought 
responsible. 

“That, Jane dear,” I’d say, “is the con- 
tinuity writer’s idea of what she’d do. We 
don’t think so, do we? But you see, he 
may have been in a very great hurry when 
he wrote the scene, or he may not have 
been able to imagine what the scene would 
look like when it was complete.” 

Then we’d decide what “she” should 
have done under those circumstances, in- 
stead of doing what she did. We may have 
been right or we may have been wrong. 
But whichever it was, I was in position 
to give things the sort of interpretation, in 
general, that I wished, in accordance with 
my ideas of what was good for my little 
ladies. 

I have tried, also, to give them an im- 
pression similar to my own of the motion 
picture in its general aspects. They have 
a respect for the institution that is similar 
to my respect ; I think they are proud of 
their mother for what she has been able to 
accomplish, proud of her association with 
the motion picture industry, and proud of 
the industry itself. (Continued on Page 64) 



1926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



17 




The Irene Rich of Lady W indemere s Fan ” and the home-loving Irene Rich are two very different personalities. Dramatic art 
of high order created the former — and a delightfully natural mood of the latter is expressed by the camera study above. 




18 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



Februa, 



- wuury 




fy FRED APPLEGATE 



V IDOR may have done the most 
touching, Webb the most powerful, 
Von Stroheim the most artistic, and 
Niblo the most spectacular moving pictures 
of the season, but J. Stuart Blackton has 
done the most unusual. 

To the habitual picture-goer sated with 
“Northwoods stuff,” “flapper stuff,” “epic 
stuff,” “costume stuff,” and other “stuff,” 
his production of “Bride of the Storm” for 
Warner Brothers will come like a cool sea 
breeze on a suffocating midsummer night. 
It is as strange and intriguing as a lost city. 

“The Bride of the Storm” was cleverly 
adapted to the screen by Marian Constance 
from “Maryland, My Maryland,” a short 
story by James Francis Dwyer, which at 
the time of its publication in Collier’s 
weekly attracted considerable attention and 
comment because of the originality of its 
setting and the freshness of its theme. It 
is said to have been inspired by the song 



“Maryland, My Maryland” and although 
the entire story hinges as much on the song 
as did Ernst Lubitsch’s “Lady Winder- 
mere’s Fan” on the fan, it does it in an 
entirely novel and unexpected manner. 

Pictures pivoting upon or inspired by 
famous songs have of late enjoyed an aston- 
ishing popularity and success. Two of 
the most noteworthy of recent release 
counted among the top-notchers of the last 
season are “Little Annie Rooney” directed 
by William Beaudine, and “Kiss Mg 
Again” directed by Ernst Lubitsch. 

Commodore Blackton explains this prom- 
inence of music as the theme and inspira- 
tion of picture successes by the important 
part which music has played and the in- 
creasingly important part it is now playing 
in the affairs of the human race. An art 
which has the human emotions as its me- 
dium could hardly ignore the most elemen- 
tal, universal, and emotional of all the arts, 




Tyrone Power 
as Jacob Kroom 



music. It could not represent life without 
representing the profound effect of music 
on it. 

As usual Blackton has assembled a well- 
balanced cast of extraordinary strength. 
Many years ago he began and sponsored 



1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



19 



the film career of the greatest star of his 
day, Maurice Costello. In “Bride of the 
Storm” he had the pleasure and satisfaction 
of helping launch the promising career of 
that favorite’s remarkable daughter, Do- 
lores Costello. Her rare type of wistful, 
spiritual beauty was ideally suited to the 
characterization of Faith Fitzhugh, the 
little Maryland girl, who shipwrecked off 



Pag lighthouse in the Dutch West Indies, 
becomes the slavey of the three keepers. 
In a short glimpse of her father’s mansion 
in Baltimore at the beginning of the pic- 
ture, and in the shipwreck and rescue by 
the keepers, Julia Swayne Gordon is seen 
as Faith’s mother. 

Tyrone Power as Jacob Kroom, the 
hook-handed grandfather in charge of the 
light, Sheldon Lewis as Piet, his crooked- 
backed monster of a son, and Otto Mat- 
tieson as Hans, his idiot grandson, form a 
particular sinister and repellant trio. 
Aware of Faith’s identity and comprehend- 
ing that she comes from people of means 
they keep her so that they may marry her 
to Hans and come into possession of her 
property. 

Faith arrives at womanhood ignorant of 
all but the bleak cramped world of the 
lonely light house isolated on tiny, rocky 
Pag island, the memories of her earlier, 
happy life almost blotted out by the drud- 
gery, hardship, and loneliness of her exist- 
ence under the brutality and ignorance of 
her masters. Old Jacob regards her as a 



heaven-sent bride brought by the storm for 
his grandson, whom he knows no woman 
would willingly have and this thought of 
marriage with Hans is a constant horror to 
her. 

Then one day from the balcony of the 
lighthouse she sees a destroyer anchored a 
short way off and the sight of the American 
flag at its peak stirs old memories. Some- 
thing wells up in her throat and she sings 
— “Maryland,” the words meaningless to 
her and garbled with Dutch which has 
replaced what little she knew of her native 
tongue. Dick Wayne, a young lieutenant 
played by John Harron catches a snatch of 
the song as he is coming up on the other 
side of the lighthouse and this and the 
hostile reticense of the Krooms, who deny 
the presence of a woman piques his curios- 
ity so that he returns another time to find 
Faith alone on the beach. 

As he maneuvered for a landing in a 
small rowboat, a breaker neatly capsized it 
and drenched him. Scrambling ashore to 
where Faith has been watching the accident 
(Continued on Page 65) 




Dolores Costello and Johnny Harron, the lovers, about whom the maelstrom of a gripping, 
dramatic plot whirls, with malevolent intensity 



20 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



/' ebruary 







VICTOR SEASTROM 



DRAFTING 
OF EUROPE 
AMERICAN 



SVEND GADE 



T HE vast, world-conquering popularity of American 
screen production has resulted in the drafting of the best 
directorial brains of Europe into the work of film pro- 
duction in Hollywood. 

Of the group pictured above, the majority have come from 
Europe after outstanding achievement in the film industry 
there had attracted the attention of American producers. Eric 
Von Stroheim is the only real exception to this rule among 
those listed here; while he studied the stage and was an actor 
in Europe, he worked in pictures in Hollywood as an extra, a 
character player and a star before becoming a director. 

Inevitably, one tends to put the foreign directors into one 
group classification, and American directors into another, and 
to say that the work of the former differs from that of the 
latter. Actually, the director whose natural dramatic methods 
most resemble those of Ernst Lubitsch, for instance, is not one 
of the other foreigners, but an American. The same might be 
said of Svend Gade, as we know him by his work to date ; 
while Benjamin Christianson groups with the foreigners only 
by race. 



BENJAMIN CHRISTIANSON 



Freulich 



ERIC VON STROHEIM 



The closest bond that exists between any of the foreign di- 
rectors occurs in the case of Victor Seastrom and Mauritz 
Stiller. The latter was a pioneer European director, and 
Seastrom was an actor in Stiller’s pictures. Seastrom, how- 





1 926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



21 




ERNST LUBITSCH 



Freulich 



MAURITZ STILLER 



ever, first attracted the attention of the American producers, 
while Stiller is one of the most recent importations. In the 
case of Dimitri Buchowetzki, the Russian’s work is as distinct 
from that of his foreign colleagues as it is from that of the 
indigenous directors. 

Buchowetzki directed “Sapho,” "Danton,” “Othello” and 
other notable pictures abroad, and his most recent American 
films are “Graustark” and “The Midnight Sun.” Christian- 
son produced “Blind Justice,” “The Witch” and other films 
for Ufa, and has just done “Devilkin” here. Stiller is such a 
recent arrival that his first production in Hollywood is only 
now under way, but great things are expected of him since his 
foreign production, “The Atonement of Goesta Berling.” 

Seastrom attracted attention here principally through his 
European production, “Give Us This Day.” His most notable 
productions here are “The Tower of Lies” and “He Who 
Gets Slapped.” Ernst Lubitsch made that remarkable Ger- 
man film, “Passion,” and in America has made “The Marriage 
Circle” and many other notable contributions. Svend Gade 
scored a particular success with “Hamlet” abroad, and has to 
his credit in America, “Peacock Feathers” and “Watch Your 
Wife.” Von Stroheim’s great success with “Foolish Wives” 
definitely placed him upon the cinema map, preparing the way 
for such accomplishments as “Greed” and “The Merry 
Widow.” 



Richee 



DIMITRI BUCHOWETZKI 



?? 



THE MOTION PICTURE 



DIRECTOR 



February 




C larence brown, the man, is 

an infinitely more interesting sub- 
ject for editorial comment than 
Clarence Brown, the director. Naturally, 
it is the man who actuates and motivates 
the director. But to know the man aside 
from the director is to plumb the depths of 
his sincerity. Let it suffice to say that 
the Brown of this dawning epoch of hey- 
days is the same man of yesteryear’s tur- 
bulent era. Today he would not say any- 
thing, nor do anything, that he would not 
have done yesterday. He is entirely free 
from the sudden snobbishness and false 
flourishes that have hurtled many other 
promising and delightful people of leaner 
days into a personification of the inane. 

When Clarence Brown says something 
to you, you know that he means it. He 
doesn’t “beat around the bush.” He doesn’t 
“talk to the gallery.” If he has any serious 
shortcomings as either man or director they 
have not made themselves apparent. He is 
the kind of a man that you can pin your 
faith on. He would never violate a trust. 
Those kind of men make good directors. 
Brown is one of the best in the business. 

The physical make-up of Brown is in- 
dicative of a thinker and a doer. Of sturdy 



build, about five feet ten inches in height 
. . . black hair fringed with gray . . . 
a penetrating gaze; the gaze of a keen 
analyst and a sound intellectualist . . . 
a quizzical smile, at times fading into a 
vague reverie . . . subduing outward 

emotions . . . not inclined much to speech 
except at times when enthusiasm moves 
him to ardent discussion . . . never in- 
dulging in idle gossip . . . and of a tem- 
perate nature that is one of the rarities of 
Hollywood (he neither drinks nor smokes) 

. ... he exudes a firm resolve and radi- 
ates a dominating personality. 

Clarence Brown was born at Clinton, 
Mass., on May 10, 1890. At the age of 
fifteen he graduated from high school 
there. Four years later he was graduated 
from the University of Tennessee with 
two degrees . . . those of Bachelor of 
Science in Mechanical Engineering and 
Bachelor of Science in Electrical Engineer- 
ing. For about six years he directed his 
knowledge and abilities in the realm of au- 
tomotive engineering in a worthy capacity 
with the Stevens-Duryea Motor Co. Un- 
wittingly he was fitting himself for his fu- 
ture work as a film director. For it is 
the sense of mechanical motivation of dra- 



‘y'/ie 

an on 
Cover 



ma, drama that however does not lose its 
emotional power, that sets Brown apart as 
distinctive in the field of directors. 

For six years after his entry into motion 
pictures in June, 1915, Brown was assis- 
tant with Maurice Tourneur. From the 
start he exhibited his capacity to forge 
ahead in the young industry. He readily 
grasped the somewhat intricate engineering 
of photoplay production. Brown, however, 
thought in terms of human thought, rather 
than from the standpoint of what consti- 
tuted “good drama” from the viewpoint 
of director and cameramen. He later evi- 
denced this in violating many of the moth- 
eaten bugaboos about camera angles, se- 
quence of events, in brief, the construction 
of a motion picture to him was good as 
long as it abided by the natural trend of 
progression, and not by the box-office idea 
of scene assembly. 

The most noteworthy of his productions 
are “The Great Redeemer”, “The Acquit- 
tal”, “The Signal Tower”, “Butterfly”, 
“Smouldering Fires”, “The Goose 
Woman” and “The Eagle”, in the order 
of their making. It was the initiation of 
a new order of consistently fine photoplays 
that established him. Probably “The Sig- 
nal Tower”, more than any other, served 
to bring his name to the public foreground. 
Each succeeding Brown picture has been 
consistently better, regardless of theme or 
size. It is generally conceded that “Kiki”, 
the Norma Talmadge vehicle which Brown 
is now producing, will be the greatest tri- 
umph of both Brown and Talmadeg. 

At the present time he is under contract 
to Joseph M. Schenck to make pictures for 
United Artists Corporation. Brown was 
maneuvered from Lfiiiversal by Schenck 
immediately after the completion of “The 
Goose Woman”, which proved to be one 
of the biggest hits of 1925 and brought 
Louise Dresser to stellar fame on the 
screen. 

One thing about Brown that is of inter- 
est to the layman — and also to the man 
(Continued on Page 62) 



19 26 



THE MOTION 



PICTURE DIRECTOR 



23 




ltalizm 





y?n OJTJcreen 
Ursonah'iy Storu 



T HERE comes a time in the career 
of every man when he pauses to 
take stock of himself, and deliber- 
ately seeks his proper niche in the scheme 
of life. And so it happened that a young 
man stopped to take account of his assets 
before embarking upon his career. Behind 
him lay college, athletic achievement, travel 
and a good deal of money variously spent. 
Before him lay the world and the problem 
of how to attack it most advantageously. 

Assets: Health and optimism. Cultural 
polish imparted by Stanford, Yale, Oxford 
and Heidelburg Universities, and student 
life abroad. Discipline from experience in 
the navy during the World War. Friends 
and connections in the show business. Cap- 
ital, none to speak of except in the form 
of those other assets. 

The young man was John W. Consi- 
dine, Jr., son of the John Considine known 
to fame in the theatrical profession as part 
ner in the enterprises of Sullivan and Con- 
sidine. Like many young men, he had not 
thought seriously of the profession he 
would eventually enter until this particu- 
lar time. His college studies, beginning 
with medicine, had been broad and general 
in their later developments, and they gave 
him no particular index to the choice of a 
career. 

There came back to Considine’s memory 
a conversation he had had with a room- 
mate at Yale. He had said, in effect: 
“Buddy, if ever I need to go to work 
I’m going to pick out some big man I like, 
engaged in a line of work I’m interested 
in, and get a job with him with the inten- 
tion of ultimately becoming his secretary.” 
“Ultimately becoming his secretary ?" 
the room-mate had said with justifiable 
surprise. 

“Yes. That’s one of the best short cuts 
to mastery of big business. It happens that 
I know, because I’ve made an intimate 
study of my father’s secretary, who was a 
master of the secretary’s art. By studying 
him, too, I’ve learned part of his tricks — 
and in my opinion, the secretary to a big, 
active figure in any line of business is in 
position to get into the executive end of 
that business quicker than he could arrive 




JOHN W. CONSIDINE, JR. 



by any other means. First he makes him- 
self indispensable — ” 

And so on. As Considine had said, he 
had made a study of the secretary business, 
not with any thought of becoming a secre- 
tary at that time, but simply because he 
admired high proficiency in any capacity, 
and considered his father’s secretary ex- 
traordinarily proficient. 

“What’s the future of such a position?” 
he had asked himself, and instantly found 
the answer in the fact that aside from his 
father, no one knew so much about his 
father’s business as that secretary did. Fu- 
ture? All that individual ability and the 
possibilities of the particular line of busi- 
ness in question could offer. 

It was precisely at this point in his intro- 
spection that Joseph M. Schenck entered 
his career as a vital factor. Through his 
father’s association with the Loew enter- 
prises and consequently with Mr. Schenck, 
he knew that dominant leader, and ad- 
mired him immensely. The business in 
which Mr. Schenck’s interests were cen- 
tering, motion pictures, also intrigued the 
interest of young Considine. 

He promptly approached Mr. Schenck 



for a position. He was in New York, and 
the date was November, 1921. 

“Meet me in Los Angeles,” said the 
producer, “and I’ll give you a chance.” 

At the appointed time and place, Con- 
sidine reported for duty — any sort of duty 
there was to offer. 

“You’ll be the assistant of Sidney Frank- 
lin’s assistant director,” Schenck told him. 
“Now, before I turn you over to him, 
here’s one vitally important piece of ad- 
vice. Forget that you’re anyone but an 
energetic young man trying to get along. 
Forget that you’re the product of several 
colleges. You’re in a business now where 
your personal ability will carry you as far 
as you make it, and nothing else will help 
you ; in fact, anything else is liable to han- 
dicap you. Go ahead and make good !” 
Considine found that his new position 
was, in fact, that of third assistant direc- 
tor. The picture was “The Primitive 
Lover,” starring Constance Talmadge. 
Following the advice of Mr. Schenck 
faithfully, and pouring all his energy into 
the new task, he succeeded in pleasing Mr. 
Franklin with his work. Winning the 
(Continued on Page 67) 



24 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Montagu Love, Dor- 
othy Devore and John 
Patrick in the Warner 
Bros. Classic, Leave It 
to Me, directed by 
William Beaudine. 



(Bill Beaudine says 



O VER at Warner Bros, a neat little 
“job” in the matter of a crook 
movie has been “pulled off” by 
William Beaudine. Phil Klein and E. T. 
Lowe hatched the plot by adapting Darryl 
Francis Zanuck’s story, whereupon “Beau” 
assembled such notorious characters as 
John Mescall, Gene Anderson, George 
Webster, “Briny” Foy, and Bert Shipman 
to aid and abet him in filming, with Dor- 
othy Devore, John Patrick, Montagu 
Love, George Pearce, Lynn Cowan, Rus- 
sell Simpson, James Gordon, Frank 
Brownlee, Fred Kelsey, Charles Hill 
Mailes, and others, Warner Bros, produc- 
tion of “Leave It To Me.” 

The conventional “crook picture” deals 
with gobs and gobs of underworld people 
in the big city, virtuous lady crooks who 
reform, big-hearted gent crooks who do the 
same, faithful “dopes” who get “clunked” 
in the last reel to everybody’s sorrow after 
saving something or somebody, etc. 

There isn’t a big city, a “dope,” a crook, 
male or female, who reforms, a mean, nasty 
detective, a pair of handcuffs, a den, a 
poolroom, a “fence,” or a secret passageway 
in “Leave It To Me.” Nobody gets pois- 



oned, or shot, or stabbed, or what is 
worse — converted. 

Ninety-five percent of the picture was 
taken on location in woodsy places or little 
towns. It is a picture of the great outdoors 
“where men are men,” yet it is a crook 
picture. As a rule the heroine and hero 
are promising young crooks doing a flour- 
ishing trade in crime — not really bad crime 
— quite chivalrous and respectable in fact. 
When they meet, their consciences smite 
them both simultaneously and they begin 
to long to set each other on the straight 
and narrow way. 

In “Leave It To Me” the procedure is 
reversed. The young gentleman (of the 
press, by the way), and the young lady 
start out perfectly respectable. Circum- 
stance intervenes and brings them together 
— to impress each other with their wicked- 
ness and their bold, bad exploits. 

Up to the very denouement of one of 
the most delightfully interesting tangles 
seen upon the screen in years, they have 
each other convinced of their sinfulness. 
These of course are John and Dorothy. 
But there are a couple of honest-to- 



goodness crooks, consistently crooked and 
proud of it, who serve to liven things up 
considerably. The big master-brain who 
is responsible from the first for so much 
humorous activity, Dr. R. Rappaport Run- 
yon, alias Ducket Nelson, is splendidly 
charactrized by Montagu Love. Frank 
Brownlee makes an admirable convict, 
better than would ninety-eight per cent of 
those now enjoying the hospitality of our 
penal institutions. 

“Leave It To Me” is a light, swiftly 
moving comedy-drama wonderfully well 
suited to the talents not only of Miss De- 
vore and Mr. Beaudine, a working team 
of long standing, but to those of John 
Patrick. For Patrick it is the chance for 
which every picture actor and actress hopes 
and prays. His star as a comedian has 
been hanging brightly well above the hori- 
zon, giving great promise, but from “Leave 
It To Me” on just leave it to John. His 
star is scheduled by this particular astrono- 
mer to rise higher and shine brighter at an 
increasingly steady rate. 



1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



25 



^ Motor Car Trend .£r 1926 



A NOTHER great national preview 
has come to a close, and has been 
1 - followed closely by many local 
premiers and debuts. 

This screen parlance refers to automo- 
biles, and with good reason : probably no 
other industry, trade or profession uses 
more high-class passenger automobiles than 
the motion picture industry and its workers. 

Cars are a vital necessity to stars, di- 
rectors and members of technical and pro- 
ducing staffs. For the army of extras and 
other itinerant workers in films the auto- 
mobile is no less necessary as a means of 
speedy transportation from studio to studio, 
and aside from the use of commercial cars 
and trucks, an unusual number of good 
automobiles are to be found in studio trans- 
portation departments. These cars are used 
in pictures and for emergency transporta- 
tion of all sorts. Truly, the motor car 
has an important place in film production. 

Every January, in the Grand Central 
Palace, New York City, leading motor car 
manufacturers collaborate in a comprehen- 
sive exposition of the latest developments in 



6y CHARLES H.BIRD 

opment and improvement of personal trans- 
portation. 

And just at this time of year investi- 
gations into probable trends are seriously 
hampered by the amusing “veil of secrecy” 
in which over-anxious motor car men at- 
temp to swathe their business. 

But information as vital as the news of 
automotive doings, has a way of circulating, 
and so it may be authoritatively stated 
that the outstanding trend of passenger 
transportation for 1926 presents a very defi- 
nite advance toward a paradoxical combi- 
nation, — that of speed and safety. 

Cars of 1926 are built to travel faster, to 
afford even greater comfort to passengers, 
and at the same time, to be controlled with 
greater ease. 

Another encouraging trend is the rap- 
idly spreading custom among leading motor 
car builders of abandoning yearly models. 
That, more than anything else, has estab- 
lished owner confidence. Today, the auto- 
mobile owner, who selects a new car from 
the line of any of the fifty dependable man- 
ufacturers can rest assured that the style 



and value of his chosen vehicle is not going 
to be almost totally wrecked by the sud- 
den advent of an entirely new model, 
sprung on an unsuspecting public within 
six months of his original purchase. 

Standardization in basic principles of de- 
sign and construction has come to stay for 
two excellent reasons. First, owner con- 
fidence, that most vital asset, must be main- 
tained, and second, “Old Man Overhead”, 
the ever present enemy of the manufact- 
urer must be kept down, and radical 
changes of design send manufacturing costs 
skyrocketing, to the ultimate ruin of those 
who persist in attempting to snatch success 
through sensationalism, rather than achiev- 
ing it by means of the slower, surer process 
of sound merchandising of dependable 
products. 

Significant proof of the actual time and 
space blanking spirit of this present era of 
rapid transit, is seen in the fact that, simul- 
taneously with the opening of the New 
York Show, new model cars, identical with 
those displayed “for the first time” in the 
Grand Central Palace, began to appear on 
the Pacific Coast, notably, in the fine salons 
of the Hollywood and Los Angeles motor 
car distributors and dealers. 

And with them came several surprise an- 
nouncements of great eastern mergers, all 
tending toward the inevitable plan o f 
further standardization. 

The Stutz vertical eight, one of the most 
striking developments of the new year, is 
introduced here under the sponsorship of 
Lynn C. Buxton, who for years has stuck 
to the Stearns-Knight line. But Willys- 
Overland Inc. of Toledo announced the 
purchase of the Stearns factory. This 
brings the manufacture of all cars with the 
sleeve-valve engine under one head, al- 
though the various plants are to be operated 
as separate units. 

The new Stutz is replete with unique 




automotive design. That is the national 
automobile preview. 

Naturally, a good two-thirds of the 
population of United States are on the qui 
vive to know what the outcome will be, 
what new departures will be introduced 
in various makes of cars, for they all have 
cars at home, the style and value of which 
are going to be more or less affected. 

The great question of the day on the 
street, among motor car owners, is “What’s 
the Trend”? 

That word trend is a term somewhat 
difficult to interpret in the face of the kalei- 
doscopic progress being made in the devel- 




General Motors’ new low priced creation is the Pontiac Six, featuring this Coupe and a Coach 
distributed as companion cars to the Oakland line. 







26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




The fastest selling model of the Buick line, with latest refinements, 
is this new Four-Door Sedan. 




The handy “One-Shot Lubrication” has been added as one of many im- 
provements in this new Twentieth Century Six-Cylinder Sedan by Chandler. 




Introducing a Auto 




A new Big Six, the “Imperial 80,” is presented by Chrysler, with a 92 H.P. 
motor and speed ability up to 80 miles per hour. 




With rich appointments and an improved design of their famous speedway 
motor, Locomobile offers this new Coupe and a Brougham 
in the Junior Eight. 



High-class conveyance at mass price is the aim of Oldsmobile in offering this 
new Utility Coupe and a Coach of similar line and appointment. 




Capt. E. V. Rick- 
enbacker declares 
his new line of 
straight eights are 
the fastest cars in 
America, the 
Coupe Sedan with 
two carburetors 
and a 100 H.P. 
motor is shown 
here. 




The smallest sleeve-valve engine ever built in America, powers 
the new Willys-Knight Six Seventy, built 
to sell under $1800. 







19 26 



THE MOTION 



PICTURE DIRECTOR 



27 



Debs” of 1926 




This is a special Sport Phaeton customed by Don Lee on the new “Ninety 
Degree Cadillac Eight Chassis,” with tonneau cowl 
and European deflectors. 



Spirit of Youth is typified in the “Gray Goose Traveler” Sport Phaeton of 
new Wills St. Claire group, which includes a new V-type Eight. 






This Diana Line Eight Cabriolet Roadster produced by Moon specialists, is 
credited with intriguing lines, tiger getaway, and superb comfort. 





Don Douglas, airplane builder, knows motors. Here he is 
with his Franklin “Camel” Sport Roadster, the 
famous air-cooled six series. 



Nash has designed a new engine used exclusively in his closed models. This 
Advanced Six 4-Door Sedan has the new “Closed Car Motor.” 



A Sedan of novel 
design, built to 
offset wind resis- 
tance, after the 
German idea, is 
introduced by 
Velie in this six. 
“better vision” 
closed car. 













28 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 






mechanical features, combined in a long, 
low, swift looking car. The maximum 
outside height of the entire line of six body 
types is 70 inches, making it possible for a 
person of average height to look clear over 
the car when standing on the curbing. 

One standard price, under $3500, has 
been set for all six Stutz models, a sales 
innovation which will no doubt be followed 
eventually by many builders. The engine 
is eight-in-line with nine main bearings 
and an overhead valve control assembly, 
automatically oiled. Automatic oiling is 
also carried out in the chassis. The fam- 
ous Stutz under-slung chassis is retained 
with refinements and improvements. The 
seat level is only 30 inches from the pave- 
ment, and although the car is rated 131 
inches long, it can be turned in a 24 foot 
radius. Latest type hydraulic four wheel 
brakes, balloon tires special cam and lever 
steering gear for balloon tires, with co- 
ordinated spring design, are said to make 
these new cars remarkably 
comfortable and so easily 
and positively controlled that 
they are practically skid- 
proof, even at high speed, on 
wet surfaces. 

In fact many features of 
the new Stutz line and the 
methods outlined for their 
distribution and sale are 
prophetic, marking a trend 
close to policies adopted all 
along the line by the fore- 
most motor car makers. 

Two sport roadsters and 
four closed body types make 
up the line. 

Most of the new cars for 
1926 are closed models, 
with smart roadsters, equip- 
ped with rumble seats, rep- 
resenting the open types. 

And even the roadsters and 
speedsters are receiving brisk 
competition by the advent of 
many sport coupes. 

General Motors an- 
nounces an entirely new six, 



the Pontiac, fea- 
tured in a coupe 
and a coach to 
sell around a 
thousand dollars, 
distributed as a 
companion car to 
the Oakland line. 
It is reported to 
be the ‘‘last 
word” in moder- 
ate priced trans- 
portation, carry- 
ing all the newest 
mechanical and 
comfort features, 
such as automatic 
lubrication, spe- 
cial easy - ride 
spring design, 



Majel Coleman had the first ride in this new Jordan Line Eight Playboy which 
has an engine designed after the turbine principle. 



feather-finger control, and marked opera- 
tion economy by reason of a friction-free 
motor of powerful, but small piston 



Readily convertible from sleek sport roadster to snug coupe, this new Kissel 
model is offered in both six and eight. It is called the “All-Year Car.” 



construction. The 
closed cars un- 
doubtedly hold 
the center of the 
picture. Some 
makers have quit 
building open 
models, while 
others offer them 
only in de luxe 
designs. Times 
have certainly 
changed. Yester- 
day, the rich man 
was known by 
his closed car. 
Today, the open 
sport type vehicle 
is the mark of af- 



fluence ; for it is usually the second car in 
the family, reserved for exceptionally fine 
days. Body finishes continue to lean to- 
ward the new lacquer coat- 
ing, although baked enamel 
and multi-coated paint and 
varnish coverings are still 
favored by some. 

Chassis life has been 
lengthened by improvement 
in fit and quality of parts. 
The old song about cars be- 
ing built better in former 
years is now passe. Today’s 
cars are actually better than 
they were even two years 
ago. Increased life has been 
gained by improvements in 
design. Pressure lubrication 
is now almost universal. 
That increases bearing life, 
and all wearing surfaces are 
larger, and hence slower to 
deteriorate. 

Two new features, the 
air-cleaner and the oil puri- 
fier, or rectifier, adopted by 
many leading builders have 
materially increased engine 
life. The former takes the 
dirt out of the air which is 
drawn into the motor 
through the carburetor, and the latter takes 
the grit out of the oil in the crankcase; also 
keeping it free from water and gasoline 
drippings, thus increasing bearing service. 

Another interesting device which is 
gaining wide acceptance and is installed on 
many of the new models this year, is the 
gasoline filter. It became prominent last 
year when Studebaker adopted it as stand- 
ard equipment without any special pub- 
licity. 

Shock absorbers are prominent as stock 
equipment this year, adding to riding com- 
fort, and nearly all models have balloon 
tires and four-wheel brakes, with special 
steering improvements which have in- 
creased motoring safety through quick and 
easy car control, a most vital advantage in 
(Continued on Page 59) 



A flash of foreign fashion is incorporated in the design of the new Marmon, and 
Mitchell Lewis found this Speedster irresistible. 





19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



29 




Just an extra who inherits a million, then starts out to spend it. 






imons 




I F Dickens were alive today with all 
his literary urge and power of old, 
would he write of the old times or of 
the new? 

He wrote of the things modern in his 
day. Modern life, contemporary problems 
held his interest. His claim to imortality 
lies in his revelation of human frailty and 
strength of humanness in general, unchang- 
ing within the short span of history. One 
is constrained to believe that if the question 
were put to him, he would reply, 

“Of course I would write of the Jazz 
Age! Character is unchanging, but the 
conditions surrounding it and modifying 
its manifestations, change with the passing 
years. This day is more advanced, more 



complex, more fascinating in its possibili- 
ties than those of my time. It is not fair 
to let my work, with its comparatively dull 
atmosphere, stand judgment upon its hu- 
manness alone. I would give it the ad- 
vantage of a modern background, a tempo 
and color contemporaneous with its modern 
readers.” 

A somewhat similar problem confronted 
the Paramount organization in filming 
“Brewster’s Millions.” The George Barr 
McCutcheon story appeared some twenty- 
five years ago in the form of a novel and 
a stage play. Five years ago it was 
brought to the screen as a Paramount pro- 
duction featuring Roscoe Arbuckle. 

Such great technical progress has been 



made in motion pictures that any reissue 
of the original film would be impractical. 

The change in public taste, the amaz- 
ing metamorphosis in the lives and sur- 
roundings of the screen patrons themselves, 
is a development that relegates any prev- 
ious version of the story still farther into 
the background of the past. Stories of 
the year 1900 fall into a peculiar class that 
has neither the romantic color of tales of 
the more distant past, nor the present-day 
interest of our own modern times. 

A picturization of the exact story against 
a modern background could not satisfy the 
modern taste, yet the basic dramatic ele- 
ments of the story were too good to be 
laid away in the museum of past successes. 



30 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




In the topsy-turvy land of “ Miss Brewster s Millions ” stars become extras and extras become stars. Here are ten extras who 
impersonate Mary Bickford, Florence Vidor, Corinne Griffith, Norma Shearer, Mae Murray, Norma Talmadge Pola Negri, 

Gloria Swanson, Betty Bronson and Colleen Moore. 



Paramount solved the problem by changing 
the title and placing a feminine star in 
the leading role, thus accomplishing several 
things at once. Most important of these 
is the fact that the present title preserves 
the identity of the story and at the same 
time conveys the thought that plot changes 
are to be expected. 

The changes in the superficial elements 
of tbe story are radical; those in the basic, 
human side in which lies the real value of 
the original “Brewster” are very slight. 
And all the new and unfamiliar material 
is due to the influence of the moderniza- 
tion of its setting. 

In those times when the original hero 
was a strictly up-to-the-minute young man, 
his attempt at spending a million a year 
was so unusual and presented such diffi- 
culties, that it possessed a great “punch.” 
Since then, times have progressed far be- 
yond the author’s wildest dreams so to 



preserve the “punch” of the idea a girl was 
created to spend the millions! 

At present, spending a million in a year 
isn’t such a remarkable feat. Miss Brew- 
ster of 1926, as she is portrayed in the 
Lasky film by Bebe Daniels, must spend 
the amount within three months! 

According to the producer this is a 
fairly accurate example of the increased 
tempo of modern life during the twenty- 
six years that have elapsed since the au- 
thor’s original conception of the story. 

In keeping with that increased tempo 
are the other elements of added “pep” and 
thrill, flash and color comprising up-to- 
the-minute ultra-modernism. Lavish 
clothes, the absence of conventions and 
social restrictions characteristic of the most 
colorful phases of modern life will feature 
“Miss Brewster,” and make the original 
spendthrift of the earliest days of our pres- 



ent century appear dull and uninteresting 
in comparison. 

Instead of making the principal character 
a member of the “four hundred” as was 
the case in the original story, the feminine 
Brewster makes her bow as an extra girl 
in Hollywood. This new idea holds a 
special significance. In 1900, New York’s 
famous social circle represented the ulti- 
mate in speed, the peak of ultra-modernism, 
the abode of thrills, the atmosphere into 
which there entered the greatest liberty of 
thought and expression, the utmost in free- 
dom from convention. 

The life of an extra girl in Hollywood 
conveys to the general screen audience the 
present-day ultimate along these lines. All 
classes of our society meet and mingle in 
the democracy of motion picture life. The 
spirit it represents typifies the complete dis- 
appearance of artificial social barriers and 
conventions. 









19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



31 




■nm 






- m 









mm 






r 






Jazzing up "Brewster’s Millions” has been lots of fun for the entire staff. Here Miss Daniels is shown talking over new gags 
with Clarence Badger, director; Monty Brice, scenarist; Travis Banton, designer; H. K. Martin, cinematographer ; Kenneth 

Hawks, editorial supervisor, and Paul Jones, assistant director. 



Incidentally, there’s a certain glamor in 
the life of screen folk that was missing in 
that of the “Four Hundred.” “Miss 
Brewster,” herself a famous star portraying 
the role of extra girl is seen meeting many 
other famous stars of filmdom in her 
rounds of the studios. That in itself is 
sufficient to interest millions of picture 
patrons. 

Another important character of the story, 
that of the uncle, has also been remodeled 
in order to take him out of the class of 
the ancient villain and thus endow him 
with a greater humanness. A fuller, 
truer and less dignified revelation of one’s 
human qualities is permissable today, 
whereas twenty-six years ago it simply 
wasn’t being done. There has since been 
added the final touch of destruction to the 
idea of “poise,” for which has been sub- 
stituted spontaneity. Instead of the stern, 



dignified, overbearing character of his pro- 
totype, Ford Sterling as the uncle in “Miss 
Brewster’s Millions” becomes a humorous, 
human sort, possessed of all of our pres- 
ent-day weaknesses. 

To have attempted making “Brewster’s 
Millions” with a feminine star five years 
ago might have been folly, for it is a ques- 
tion as to whether or not the public would 
have accepted the substitution. Since then, 
however, the screen patrons themselves 
have so accelerated the tempo of modern 
life that they have involuntarily created 
“Miss Brewster’s Millions” and success- 
fully influenced the Paramount organiza- 
tion to screen her ‘a la mode, proving con- 
clusively that forcing the producer to recog- 
nize intelligent public taste stimulates com- 
petition and creates better pictures. 

If in some future development of the 
public taste, interest should shift to men 



instead of remaining, as it is a present, fo- 
cussed on women and their problems, per- 
haps some enterprising producer will bring 
forth “Brewster’s Millions” for the third 
time, and allow a man to spend the mil- 
lions. 

Meanwhile Bebe Daniels as the come- 
dienne who must spend the million in three 
months, should keep her audience hysterical 
from the time she makes her entrance on 
a miniature horse following a wagon-load 
of hay, all the way through to the high- 
speed finish of the film. The radical de- 
parture of the producers in making the star 
of the play feminine is more than justified 
by the promise of her performance for this 
role, and the lavish staging that is being 
given the production by Director Clarence 
Badger. Miss Daniels has, in her role of 
“Miss Brewster,” the sort of opportunities 
in which she appears to the greatest ad- 
vantage. 




February 



32 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 




Below — Alice O'Neill in her 
workshop at Universal City 
supervising the execution of 
her designs for the Ballet of 
Jewels. Right — the Gold 
Girl as evolved from the 
original sketch shown im- 
mediately below. Right 
center — Pearl with inset of 
the original conception. 



THE JEWEL BALLET from 

//LICE O’NEILL, who designed the costumes for 
v y “The Midnight Sun,” Dimitri Buchowetski’s spectac- 
ular picture-story of life in pre-war Russia for Uni- 
versal has given to the film world one of its most colorful and 
brilliant spectacles in the Ballet of Jewels sequence of that 
production scheduled for fall release on the L^niversal Super- 
Jewel program. 

While hut a spectacular incident in the dramatic action of 
the story itself, its sheer beauty and color make it one of the 
most interesting and attractive highlights of the picture as a 
whole. The story, which centers around the character of a 



7 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



33 




“THE MIDNIGHT SUN” 



little ballerino in the Russian opera (played by Laura La 
Plante) reaches one of its dramatic peaks in the ballerino’s 
first appearance in a premiere role. It was to give this feature 
of the story a proper setting that the Ballet of Jewels was 
planned. Several suggestions were offered for the particular 
treatment, but were discarded in favor of the more brilliant 
spectacle as finally conceived. In planning the ballet full cog- 
nizance had to be taken of the limitations of the screen which, 
strangely enough, in this particular instance, are greater than 
those of the stage, and several suggestions had to be abandoned 
for that reason. (Continued on Page 66) 



Below — Black Diamond, the 
contrasting note in a kaleide- 
scope of color. This is the 
evolution of the sketch Miss 
O’Neill is holding on the op- 
posite page. Left Center — 
Diamond, with accompany- 
ing sketch. Right — The 
Ring Girl. Center — the 
ensemble of the Ballet of 
Jewels in the Grotto of 
Gems. 



34 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




HOLLYWOOD BUILDS 



A MID much popping of fire crackers 
and oriental ceremonies fitting such 
' an occasion ground was broken 
January 3 for the building of the Sid 
Grauman’s new Chinese Theatre at Holly- 
wood boulevard and Orchid street, a vis- 
ualization of which is conveyed by the ac- 
companying pen and ink sketch from the 
architect’s drawings. Below, reading from 

left to right, and 
appearing as some 
of the principals 
in the event, are 
shown Sid Grau- 
man, Norma 
Talmadge, Lige 
Conley and Anna 
May Wong, with 
Miss Talmadge 
holding the gold 






( Continued on 
Page 63) 




19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE 



DIRECTOR 



35 



NEW TEMPLES OF ART 








A T THE hour of high noon on the 
second of January Harry M. War- 
■ ner, president of Warner Bros. Pic- 
tures, Inc., presented the gold spade, with 
which ground was broken for the new six- 
story Warner Bros. Hollywood Theatre, 
at Hollywood boulevard and Wilcox ave- 
nue, to Motley Flint, executive vice-presi- 
dent of the Pacific-Southwest Trust and 
Savings Bank, 
and the first dirt 
was turned with 
suitable ceremon- 
ies. Charley 
Wellman was on 
hand, and his 
“Don’t go ’way, 
folks!” an- 
nounced to 
K F W B radio 
fans that they, 
too, were to par- 
ticipate in the ex- 
ercises. Below 
are shown the 
principals who 

(Continued on 
Page 63) 









VM 






f f '• 

♦ v : f < 

A i a 







36 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




BY FRANK 



O LD Grand Teton, mighty, snow- 
clad monarch, reared his vener- 
able, white-crowned head over the 
lesser but still towering peaks 
of the Teton range — reared his head, 
blinked his eyes, and stared down into the 
Jackson Hole country in astonishment. 

He has seen the ages go by; had watched 
the passing of whole geological epochs im- 
measurable in puny years. From the time 
of his chaotic, raw-edged and undisciplined 
vouth, he had watched broodingly over the 
W voming plains. Even before the glaciers 
had polished him ; before they and the 
storms of ages had made soil around his 
lower slopes and vegetation had sprouted 
there, he had observed animal life out on 
the plains. 

Lower down, right at his feet, grew 
long, rank grass loved by the mammoth. 
When the glaciers and the passing of time 
had left of the animals only the weaker 
and the smaller, notably an insignicant de- 
scendant of the great cave bear, the weakest 
puniest animal of all made his appearance 
— a man, walking on his hind legs, depend- 
ent for protection against the cold on the 
hides of other animals incapable of much 
of a fight with tooth, claw and fist — but 
endowed with a marvelous facility for 
shaping inanimate things to his needs. 

He proved, to Grand Teton, the most 
fascinating spectacle in the drama of the 
ages. The tribe was weak and few at first, 



but soon waxed 
mighty; and yet, at 
what appeared the 
height of its power, 
another tribe came 
in and conquered it. 

Weak and few were 
they, at first, but 
they, like the dark- 
er-skinned tribe 
which had preceded 
them, grew amaz- 
ingly in numbers, 
and beyond all grasp 
of the great moun- 
tain’s imagination, 
in power. 

Not only fire and 
clubs and spears, 
and arrows that kill 
at long distance, 
were theirs, but har- 
nessed thunder and 
steam and other na- 
tural forces. Grand 
Teton at last saw 
steel rails invading his very range, tunnels 
through his granite shoulders, cuts high 
on the sides of his canyons. He finally 
saw a giant man-made insect that buzzed 
through the air, bearing men on its back. 

Then, as we have said in the beginning, 
he saw the most amazing thing of all. 
He had been dreaming of the liveliest, 



the most interesting and thrilling of all 
the time he had witnessed since. Earth had 
thrust him forth into the air. 1 hose 
times were the days at Jackson’s Hole and 
its surrounding country, when the Indian 
territories were opened for settlement, and 
the place became the most noted rendez- 
vous for “band men” in the West. 



1926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



37 




m: 



o 



A. MURRAY 



Those days had gone by — he had seen 
the aeroplane and the automobile. But 
when he had opened his eyes from dream- 
ing of that colorful time, there, before his 
amazed, far-reaching vision, was being re- 
enacted the scenes of the past ! It was a 
violation of the evolution that he had 
watched through the centuries — an evolu- 



tion so steady that 
he had learned to 
hid good-bye to each 
vanishing epoch as a 
thing of memory, 
something gone for- 
ever and beyond re- 
call. 

Was he still 
dreaming — or did 
he see ghosts of the 
old road-agents gal- 
lop madly across the 
low-lying flat of no- 
torious Jackson’s 
Hole? There were 
the unending wagon 
trains pushing for- 
ward in the face of 
almost impossible 
difficulties. The 
towns of tents were 
there, ruled by the 
worst of bad men, 
by force of gun and 
bowie-knife. 

No, here were no 
ghosts, and he was 
not dreaming. The 
lurid history of strife, bloodshed, black 
deeds and gallant deeds of old was once 
more transpiring before his eyes, curiously 
mingled with manifestations of the modern 
age such as automobiles. 

The story of Jackson’s Hole unfolded 
as he had seen it unfold in real life. There 
was the time when the rule of the bad men 



reached its zenith ; when evil force was 
supreme and lawlessness was the law. Then 
came stern justice; retribution, swift and 
sure; the six-gun became the symbol of 
law and order. 

There were, besides automobiles and 
other modern equipment, and the things 
of the old times, curious things that be- 
longed to the new times, yet made it pos- 
sible to link old times with new; to give 
to a vast audience over all the world eyes 
that saw farther than the eyes of Grand 
Teton himself; age and experience greater 
even than his. Motion picture cameras. . . 

John Ford, a young Fox Films director 
who put on the screen a picture of giant 
theme, “The Iron Horse,” and rose by its 
fame into the first ranks of directors, was 
responsible for the spectacle that made Old 
Grand Teton think that he had been 
dreaming of the past again ; that, more 
important, will open to the eyes of the 
world’s great cinema audience one of the 
most picturesque and thoroughly repre- 
sentative periods and locales of the West’s 
storied lawlessness. 

The new Ford drama is called “The 
World of Promise,” originally entitled 
“Three Bad Men” — a tale of empire 
building, outlawry, and the struggle cen- 
tering around Jackson’s Hole, Wyoming, 
and having its period at that critical time 
when the Indian territories were opened 
for settlement by whites. The theme is 
great in scope, and yet the story differs 
from that of “The Iron Horse” and other 





38 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




John Ford, 
The Director 



photoplays which have been styled screen 
epics, in its emphasis upon human drama 
rather than the movement of peoples, or 
upon war, or conquest. 

With Director Ford and the production 
staff were George O’Brien and Olive 
Borden, romantic leads; J. Farrell Mac- 
donald, peerless “Corporal Casey” of “The 
Iron Horse,” Tom Santschi, Frank Cam- 
peau, Lou Tellegen, Jay Hunt, Otis Har- 
lan, George Harris and a host of others 
appearing in chief supporting roles. 

In the very heart of the celebrated 
“Hole,” John Ford and his company lived 
in the open, undergoing the test of the 
rugged climate of late autumn and early 
winter. The towering Tetons, on one side, 
and the glorious Shoshone range on the 
other with their snow-capped peaks and 
deep canyons, inspired the production to 
the greatness of pioneer picture undertak- 
ings. 

Death Canyon, notorious retreat of the 
old-time cattle rustlers who inhabited the 
Jackson Hole country, was used for a 
scenic background for many of the big 
scenes in the production. While in the 
“Hole” filming exterior scenes, the direc- 
tor took advantage of the proximity of 
the noted landmark and “shot” scenes on 
the very spot where, in years past, widely 
known thieves had assembled. 

The story of the construction of the 
Wyoming camp wherein the company was 



of “The Iron Horse.” 
The advance guard 
was sent from the Los 
Angeles studio three 
months prior to the 
time that Director John Ford led his pic- 
ture-makers to the scene of activity. Three- 
fourths of this time was used in clearing 
the campsite of growth to allow for the 
construction of the tent city. Once this 
clearing was made, five weeks sufficed for 
the gang of workmen to erect the tents, 
build floors and set up stoves. 

Difficulties in transportation and the in- 
ability of the merchants to meet the heavy 
demand for material handicapped the con- 
struction of the canvas town. Lumber, 
used in such quantities that mills in the 
vicinity of the camp were startled at the 
size of the orders, was purchased from four 
sawmills, three being located in Wyoming 
and the fourth in Idaho. The mills were 
all located more than forty miles from 
camp, causing a long delay in the delivery 
of the necessary lumber. 

After the first heavy drain upon the 
resources of the sawmills, these institu- 
tions were unable to cope with the situa- 
tion and as it was vitally necessary to have 
a constant supply of lumber to complete the 
camp before the invasion of the production 
unit, crews were sent into the forest, tim- 
bers were felled, snaked to the mills, which 
turned them into the planks, thus eliminat- 
ing long delay. 

After the initial influx of workmen, the 
construction engineers were confronted 



quartered is as full of daring exploits and 
romance as a fiction story. 

The campsite at Jack- 
son’s Hole, while it is in 
northern Wyoming, was 
situated nearly one hun- 
dred miles from the path 



with the problem of keeping their supplies 
coming into camp. To insure regular de- 
liveries, one hundred and fifty trucks were 
constantly traveling between the Fox Films 
camp and Victor, Idaho, a distance of 
nearly one hundred miles. When climatic 
conditions were favorable, these trips were 
completed in forty-eight hours each. 

In spite of such difficulties and setbacks, 
the camp was completely finished when 
Director Ford and his company arrived. 
The production unit arrived late in the 
afternoon and started camera work the 
following morning with every department 
functioning as swiftly and smoothly as 
though the protecting hand of the studio 
was just around the corner. 

From Pocatello, Idaho, to the lower end 
of Hogback Canyon, Wyoming, a distance 
of three hundred miles, emissaries of Fox 
Film Corporation traversed, gathering the 
herds of horses and wagons; covered wag- 
ons and surreys ; oxen and wild animals 
and the vast horde of humans that appear 
in the production. 

Two hundred and fifty horses and fifty 
wagons were utilized during the construc- 
tion of the camp. These were added to 
five hundred saddle horses for the big 
scenes in the photoplay. Three thousand 
steers were rounded up for the picture. 
To feed this large herd of animals, thirty 
hay wagons, using one hundred and twenty 
horses, were constantly hauling hay from 
Jackson, Wyoming, thirty miles away. 
These teams never stopped. Night and 
day the procession moved across the Jack- 
son Hole flats with the loads of hay. 

One hundred and fifty laborers and fifty 
carpenters, augmented by machinists and 
loggers, comprised the working crew. 
More than half a million feet of lumber 
was used in building the camp. 

The public little realizes what fore- 
thought, preparation and organization is 
involved in a huge motion picture location 
movement. The only news to reach the 
outside world during an activity of this na- 
ture is of the fanciful brand: interesting 
notes of the players, fictional tales of the 
surroundings and catchy paragraphs per- 
taining to the new experiences of the stars. 

In the production of “The World of 
Promise,” a vivid example of motion pic- 
ture efficiency was shown by the moving 
of the huge Ford camp from Wyoming to 
the Mojave desert, near Victorville, Calif. 

At the outset the studio officials were 
confronted with the huge task of providing 
sturdy, clean, warm living accommodations 
for nearly five thousand people, which alone 
constitutes a herculean task. Not only this 
phase of preparation was intensive. Three 
thousand horses and other kinds of live 
stock had to be sanitarily corralled. 

Over a million feet of lumber was used 
in the building of the street sets for use 
on the desert location. One hundred and 
fifty carpenters and skilled studio mechan- 
ics worked for two months prior to the 
arrival of the production unit erecting 
(Continued on Page 66) 



19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



39 




Margaret Livingstone 
wearing a black French 
spider lace gown over 
flesh colored silk dem- 
onstrates in the Wil- 
liam Fox production 
“ A Trip to Chinatown” 
what the well-dressed 
“vamp” should wear. 
One sleeve is fashioned 
of the dress material, 
the other of georgette. 
Both are edged in 
monkey fur. The only 
touch of ornamenta- 
tion about the costume 
is in the elborate rhine- 
stone shoe buckles. 



I 






* *t 



Speaking o f 
Shawls : Do- 

lores Del Rio, 
{left) and Lil- 
yan T ashman 
{right) pose 
for _ camera 
studies in new 
shawls of hand 
painted design 
and exotic col- 
oring. 



AS WORN 
BY THE 
PLAYERS 



40 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




mencas 





% 



S HE will never be allowed to grow 
up. The little girl who, at the age 
of five, began her stage career with 
juvenile parts in the Valentine stock com- 
pany of Toronto, Canada, struck a chord 
in the heart of America’s amusement pa- 
trons that has endured, and will endure. 

Fame is a peculiar thing. To some who 
attain it to a great degree, it comes over- 
night. Lord Byron is by no means the 
solitary example of a human being waking 
in the morning to find himself upon its 
pedestal. But fame enshrouded Mary 
Pickford gradually, and it is hard to say 
at what point in her career it really began 
— just at what time she became “Amer- 
ica’s Sweetheart.” 

It would not be too far-fetched, in the 
light of subsequent developments, to say 
that it began when she was nine years old. 
At that age she was starring in stage pro- 
ductions such as “The Fatal Wedding,” 
playing juvenile parts that were usually 
older than herself; in other words, the 
nine-year-old girl even then had begun 
to lay the foundations of her present 
fame through playing just the sort of 
roles in which she is beloved today. 

As a child nearing her ’teens, she 
played with Chauncy Olcott in “Ed- 
mund Burke,” for Belasco in “The 
Warrens of Virginia,” and in many 
other productions in which her parts 
were overshadowed by names and per- 
sonalities who were then famous, and 
whose roles gave them the center of the 
stage. Yet her fame as well as her 
ability may have been growing even 
then ; one might almost say it must 
have been growing — for is she not, to- 
day, in spite of her real-life physical 
maturity, the same little girl of those 
early stage roles? 

When she went into motion pictures, 
in the days before the film players were 
given personal publicity and screen 
credit, she had to “start all over again” 
in one sense. She became known as 
“The Biograph Blonde.” But the Mary 
Pickford personality, in some way, 
emerged from this trade-marked obscur- 
ity, and in spite of the fact that a few 
more noted stage players had overcome 
their prejudice against films and were 
working before the camera, she was one 
of the first to become known to the 
public. 



An early picture of Mary Pickford, 
showing her at the time when she 
first appeared on the stage in Be- 
lasco productions, and Mary Pick- 
ford as she is today. “Little Mary” 
never grows up and whether it is in 
her latest pictures, “Sparrows,” ex- 
treme right, and “Annie Rooney,” 
lower left, or in "Heart o’ the Hills” 
or “The Hoodlum,” she is — Amer- 
ica's sweetheart. 



Producers began to discover that the 
people were willing to pay to see Mary 
Pickford, regardless of film trademarks 
and story titles. Experiments in placing 
her in various types of roles established 
the fact that her following wanted their 
star to play the sort of stories which 



1 926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



41 



i 




and “Amarilly of Clothesline Alley.” The 
international success of “Little Annie Roo- 
ney” proves that there is no change of 
mind and taste on the part of the motion 
picture goers, insofar as Miss Pickford is 
concerned. 

The picture she has just completed, “Spar- 
rows,” presents the star in a role that un- 
doubtedly will take its place in public favor 
with her past triumphs. “Scraps” was the 
original title, and the story deals with 
Mary’s adventures with a little band of 
mistreated orphans on a baby farm. 

“Even without Mary, ‘Sparrows’ would 
be a great picture,” said Douglas Fair- 
banks when he and Joseph M. Schenck 
viewed the completed production. 

In that remark lies considerable signifi- 
cance. The public will not let Mary Pick- 
ford depart from her role, and the star’s 
name is sufficient to make almost any pas- 
sably good picture a big financial success. 
But she and her producers are not relying 
(Continued on Page 60) 



work had really made popular for the first 
time. No one wanted her to grow up. 
Similar experiments have been made ever 
since, sporadically, and the result has al- 



ways been the same. There is a Mary 
Pickford role, typified by her outstanding 
successes in such pictures as “Rebecca of 
Sunnybrook Farm,” “Daddy Long Legs,” 



42 



THE MOTION PICTURE 



DIRECTOR 



February 




Above 

Nita Naldi 



Right 

Dolores 

Costello 



Below 

Helen Lee 
Worthington 



THE FOLLIES GIRL 

As told by Sally Long 



beautiful as some of the millions of others 
trying to break into the movies, but the 
public — or a goodly portion of it — knows 
me as young and beautiful and my name, 
as a Follies girl, has a certain amount of 
box-office value that gives me an edge on 
all of the others trying to break onto the 
screen. 

“Then, too, Mat Stone has been hang- 
ing around ever since I met him when he 
came to New York a couple of weeks ago 
and he can help a lot for he puts up the 
money for a lot of pictures.” 

Then began an argument which lasted 
for months. Betty and I had ten minutes 
in the wings together, between numbers, 
every night. And every night we argued 
the advantages and disadvantages of a ca- 
reer in motion pictures and one on the 
stage. I pointed to the security of our po- 
sition with Mr. Ziegfeld. He had made 
us, given us an opportunity to acquire a 
certain amount of wealth and a great deal 
of fame. 

Betty spoke of the quicker success to be 
attained in the films. You get six or eight 
chances a year to do something big. Here 
you get your numbers at the beginning of 
the season and have no chance to try for 



Marian 

Davies 



Sally Long 



“H 



AS a Fol- 
lies girl 
any better 
chance of making a 
success of a career 
in motion pictures 
than another girl of 
equal beauty, ability 
and intelligence?” 

It was in the ear- 
ly fall of 1924 that 
I first began to puz- 
zle over this ques- 
tion. It all started 
when I casually in- 
quired of my chum, 
Betty Grey, as I dropped into a chair be- 
side her in the wings of the Selwyn The- 
atre, “Well, where do we go from here?” 

Just an expression, something to say, but 
she chose to take it seriously. “I’m going 
to Hollywood,” she calmly proclaimed. 
“I’m tired of working all night and re- 
hearsing all day and living in a tiny apart- 
ment. People in the show business know 
who I am now. I can get to see the direc- 
tors and producers by just sending in my 
name. I may not be any younger or as 



19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



43 




something bigger and better for another 
year.” 

Betty won the argument — and stayed in 
New York. I lost — and came to Holly- 
wood. 

I think that it was the list of Follies 
girls who had come to Hollywood and 
made a success that decided me. I couldn’t 
think of a one who had failed. And there 
was Marion Davies, Nita Naldi, Ann Pen- 
nington, Dolores Costello, Lilyan Tash- 
man, Jacqueline Logan, Billie Dove, Helen 
Lee Worthing, Blanche Mehaffey, Joce- 
lyn Lee and a half dozen others who 
had made a name for themselves in the 
films. 

If the Follies girl, by virtue of her 
reputation for beauty and the box-office 
value of her name, had a better oppor- 
tunity of breaking onto the screen than y 
the average newcomer to Hollywood, 
she must also have a better chance of 
staying there, I decided. For hadn’t 
all the Follies girls who had gone to Holly- 
wood stayed there? I had never heard of 
any coming back, begging for their old 
job. It must be that the training, the 
knowledge of how to take direction, of tim- 



Anne Pennington, Jacqueline Logan 
and Billie Dove at Fox Studios 

Right— Dorothy Mackaill 
Below — Lilyan Tashman 



(Continued on Page 66) 



Kathryn Perry 

ON THE SCREEN 

to C. S. Dunning 



44 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Muskrat fur in plaid design forms 
a novel idea for trimming this 
beach Club sport dress. The wide 
cuffs, band and scarf, all but cover 
the straight line crepe gown, and 
the short ruffle at the bottom of 
the skirt and sleeves are a most 
unusual finish. IV orn by Ruth 
Stewart of the Majestic Theatre. 




1 926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



45 




Photo by Mandeville 



Gwendolyn Lee, featured Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer player wearing a cape of silver ap- 
plique finished at the bottom with sea foam 
green maline pleating and at neck with 
maline ruff finished with hand rolled petals. 
To be worn over a dance frock of same 
material, with plain silver pumps and dia- 
mond buckles. 





Alice Calhoun charmingly wears this plaid 
taffeta and batiste embroidery dress with 
full flare skirt and full sleeves, one of the 
surprises in the mode for the coming 
summer. 




GOWNS — ORIGINAL CREATIONS BY 
ETHEL PAINTER CHAFFIN 



by ETHEL PAINTER CHAFFIN 



FUR CREATIONS BY 
WILLARD H. GEORGE, INC. 



I should like to feel, when designing and 
creating apparel for the women of 
Southern California, that we have 
enough individuality to dress becomingly. 
We must bear in mind that the gown we 
so much admire on another, even though 
beautifully designed and executed, may ill 
become our own personality. 

The individual figure, more than ever 
before, is demanding the attention of the 
leading French designers, and to it they are 
turning their entire attention. If your in- 
dividual figure requires long skirts, do not 
wear the shorter ones simply because Paris 



decrees that skirts shall be fourteen inches 
from the floor. Consider your figure and 
the effect a long or short skirt will have 
in giving to you the desired silhouette. 

Study the accessories, for they play an 
important role in the ensemble. Shoes and 
hose must be carefully considered. Do not 
wear snake skin shoes and hat and carry 
a hand-bag of the same material when 
wearing a dark tailored gown. Accessor- 
ies are necessary and smart when worn with 
sport costumes or an ensemble carefully 
thought out. The women of Southern 
California are acknowledged among the 



smartest dressed women of American and 
in establishing a prestige, we should each 
one of us wear the becoming things. Per- 
sonality is the keynote. A gown or wrap 
correctly designed to the individual will 
give that certain touch and poise that is 
recognized instantly as good taste. 

The morning sports costume can be se- 
vere and plain, but shoes, hose, hats, gloves 
and bag should be adapted accordingly. 
There is nothing more delightful than the 
smart white tailored sport suit, supple- 
mented by the new snake skin shoes, hat 
and bag. Snake skin will play an im- 



46 



T H t 



MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



portant part in milady’s costume this spring, 
and as it comes in a wide range of colors 
it is readily adapted to almost any costume 
design. If furs are worn for sport wear, 
they should proclaim the purpose for which 
they are intended. With the various pelts 
on the market today there is a wide selec- 
tion from which to choose furs suitable for 
motoring to and from the Country Club 
or for the shopping tour. 

The familiar nutria is soft and warm, 
very durable, and of a rich brown shade so 
becoming to most women. Sealion and 
the leopard dyed kids, newcomers in this 
field, many times trimmed with fox or 
other contrasting fur have a dash that is 
most youthful. 

The luncheon ensemble should become a 
bit more intimate as it may drift into a 
bridge or a Mah Jong for the afternoon. 
A combination of cloth or crepe and chiffon 
is correct or even a lovely embroidered 
frock and coat. A bit of fur either in 
white or pastel shades used for the collar 
or trimming will do much to soften the 
lines of the face or figure. The hat may 
carry softer lines than that used with the 
sport costume for morning wear. The ma- 
terials for afternoon run the wide range 
from brilliantly flowered chiffons to the 
taffeta plaids. Here the selection is wide 
and if one will bear in mind her individu- 
ality, a costume may be easily created which 
will have a most pleasing and harmonious 
effect. 

The fur scarf is in many cases a neces- 
sary adjunct to the afternoon ensemble. 
Foxes come in a wide range of colors to 
suit the personality of the wearer. Indeed 




Delores Del Rio becomingly wears 
white ermine trimmed with white 
fox for evening. 




For motoring and general utility 
wear, for comfort and smartness, 
Pauline Frederick wears this silver 
American Broadtail coat with plati- 
num fox trimming. 

they are an indispensable part of every 
woman’s wardrobe and their vogue is un- 
diminished. For those who are short of 
stature and inclined to stoutness, the sable 
or marten is more to be preferred. 

The combination of dinner gown and 
wrap are most essential for the popular 
clubs or house parties. The gown is only 
complete when accompanied by a soft lace 
wrap or cape for the cool of the evening. 
Chiffon gowns and capes are always prac- 
tical and one can appear in a new shade 
each evening. While those who are sus- 
ceptible to the chill of the California nights, 
capes and wraps of fur have a strong ap- 
peal. And rightly so. For not only are 
they becoming but they give a feeling of 
warmth and satisfying comfort not other- 
wise obtainable. Royal ermine of snowy 
whiteness, usually severely plain, some- 
times with the black tails lavishly used in 
the linings are always in good taste. Car- 
acul and broadtail too in various suitable 
shades usually trimmed with fox or other 
contrasting fur also have their place in the 
mode. Organdy, taffeta or net, becom- 
ingly designed, are some of the enticing 
thoughts for spring. 

This, indeed, is to be a spring of indi- 
viduality and while the thought and selec- 
tion necessary to a perfect wardrobe may 
appear a bit terrifying at first still the re- 
sult will fully justify the care expended. 
Study your individual figure, bear in mind 
your personality and make your selections 
accordingly. 



Angeleno Decorated 

H AROLD DEAN CARSEY, Holly- 
wood photographer of motion picture 
folks, for the fourth year in succession has 
been granted the highest award at the 
Royal Pictorial Salon of Sweden, accord- 
ing to word received from his European 
representative. 

The grand award given after the fourth 
year, carries with it an invitation to visit 
Stockholm and there photograph the 
Swedish royal family. Mr. Carsey expects 
to leave within a fortnight, closing his 
Laurel Canyon studio for two months. 

One hundred and fifty photographs of 
motion picture celebrities will accompany 
Mr. Carsey to Stockholm and there be 
hung in a special salon to which the award 
entitles him. 

Carsey hung fourteen portraits — two 
each of Bill Hart and Joseph Schildkraut 
and one each of John Barrymore, Clara 
Bow, Anna Q. Nilsson, Jetta Goudal, 
Anita Stewart, Evelyn Long, Nazimova 
and Donald Keith — at the Royal Salon. 
It was a portrait of Joseph Schildkraut 
which won him the award. 

He opened his Hollywood studio about 
a year ago, coming here from New York. 
While operating a studio in Greenwich 
Village he made annual trips to India, 
China and Japan photographing celebrities 
in those countries. Previous to his camera 
career Carsey was a decorative and cos- 
tume designer of renown. 




Styles may come and go, but the 
charm and usefulness of the cape will 
always keep it with us. This one is 
of blond caracul trimmed with gol- 
den fox and just fits the personality 
of Claire Windsor. 




19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



47 



Laura La Plante 

In a hand-painted af- 
ternoon gown in Greek 
motif designed by Alice 
O’Neill; an unusually 
attractive creation of 
shell pink chiffon and 
velvet, hand painted in 
bronze and silver and 
trimmed with moleskin 




48 



THE MOTION PICTURE 



DIRECTOR 



February 



A HOME THAT 



WAS DECORATED 




The informal good taste which 
makes this home so inviting and 
livable is seen in every corner of 
every room. The fireplace group 
in the living room is one expres- 
sion of it. A portrait of an old 
galleon rocking on a sea of rich 
cerulean blue was the keynote for 
the color scheme. Two little love 
seats in softest blue velvet make a 
welcoming gesture to the fireside. 



The other end of the living 
room — garden view window 
framed by hangings of blue, 
hand-blocked linen with de- 
signs in piquant colors; two 
handsome floor candlesticks 
and two congenial chairs — 
one in deep apricot hand- 
woven linen, the other in 
black and henna striped 



THIS HOME WAS A RECENT 
COMMISSION OF BARKER 
BROS.’ STUDIOS OF INTERIOR 
DECORATION. 



moire. 




19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



49 



AND FURNISHED TO BE ENJOYED 



Glazed chintz hang- 
ings of glorious “ A?n - 
aryllis” rose are the 
high note in this guest 
room, which is a sun- 
ny, delightful place. 
The carpet is rose 
taupe and the furniture 
walnut of a satiny, 
dull finish. 





The graciousness and dignity of Queen Anne furniture are especially 
appropriate for the guest room. The fine lines, soft lustre and deli- 
cate antique gold decorations lend an air of real distinction. The 
little Louis XVI chair with its needlepoint covering is an arsito- 

cratic note. 






The dining room is in distinct but pleasing 
contrast with the rest of the house, as a 
dining room has a right to be. The red 
tile floor is guiltless of rug or carpet. Ital- 
i a n chairs - v 
and table, 
specially de- 
signed, frat- 
ernize with 
Spanish 
side board 
and console 
which are 
fine, hancl- 
m a d e r e- 
productions 
of old pieces. 






50 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 





, an 

^GEORGE LANDY 






Ray Leek, first president of the Warn pas and for the past 
two years general manager for the Annual Frolic and Ball 
which lias now become a national institution. 



O NLY five years old, 
the Wampas — more 
formally designated 
as the Western Associated 
Motion Picture Advertisers 
— has already grown to be 
an important factor, not 
only within the motion pic- 
ture industry but among the 
national institutions of every 
description. 

It is based on a commu- 
nity of ideas, purposes, poli- 
cies and ambitions of the 
men who publicize the vari- 
ous factors which combine 
to make up the film indus- 
try: producing studios, stars, 
directors and authors, distri- 
bution organizations and the 
motion picture theatres. 

From the results accom- 
plished by the Wampas 
members, individually and 
collectively, this group of 
men can certainly take its 
place among the leading fac- 
tions which have definitely 
accomplished great things in 
the entire history of the 
world. Certainly no indus- 
try has ever grown to such 
tremendous proportions and, 
just as surely, no art has 
ever reached such a high 
stage of development as mo- 
tion pictures have achieved 
in the twenty years of their 
existence — and it has been 
the publicity man who has played a big 
part in this dual progress. 

Through publicity, the screen has not 
only opened a new vista of entertainment 
for the mass population of the entire world 
— it has a far greater accomplishment to 
its credit. Through the films, and espe- 
cially through the publicity connected with 
pictures, the United States has been “sold” 
to the entire civilized world as a nation, 
and the benefits therefrom have been in- 
calculably tremendous, not only from the 
entertainment angle, but also in the in- 
dustrial, social and political aspects. 

It was about five years ago that seven 
directors of publicity for various studios 
in Southern California gathered around a 
dinner table at one of the local hotels to 
discuss the dignity and the new purposes 
of their profession. It was at this gather- 
ing that the Wampas was born. 

It is a far cry from the hokum press 
agentry of several years ago to the efficient 
and dignified service which is rendered to 



the people of the world through existing 
newspaper and other periodicals by the 
Wampas and other publicity men. No 
longer does the press agent try to foist an 
unwelcome idea over on an unsuspecting 
editor or represent things beyond their 
actual proportions. Practically every Wam- 
pas member has real newspaper experience 
to his credit and, in fact, most of the mem- 
bers of this organization have held high 
posts on the local dailies. A Wampa knows 
what the neswpaper wants and he gives 
the paper news — not just statistical infor- 
mation, but live stories with human inter- 
est, legitimately demanding space in the 
periodicals of the world. 

From the seven men who sat together at 
that semi-social function five years ago, the 
Wampas has grown until, at present, its 
roster includes eighty-eight active members, 
thirteen associate members and eight hon- 
orary members. Of the active members, 
eight are working in cities outside of 
Southern California and three are in Eu- 



rope, but all of them relig- 
iously retain their Wampas 
membership. The honorary 
members include several of 
the most important men in 
the entire film world and 
every one of them treasures 
his membership card as a re- 
ward for meritorious service. 
Several other members have 
left the publicity depart- 
ments to enter the producing 
field in pictures, and a num- 
ber of them have risen to the 
highest ranks ; these men 
also religiously keep up their 
Wampas memberships and 
attend as often as their large 
interests permit. 

The presiding office has 
been occupied in turn by 
Ray H. Leek, Arch Reeve, 
Joe Jackson, Harry Wilson 
and Harry Brand, the pres- 
ent incumbent. To these 
men should go much of the 
credit for their untiring ef- 
forts and leadership in serv- 
ing as standard bearers for 
the Wampas’ perennial cam- 
paign to elevate the profes- 
sion of motion picture pub- 
licity. 

Shortly after the forma- 
tion of the organization, 
there was expressed a spon- 
taneous desire on the part of 
the stars, producers, direc- 
tors and other executives to 
make public admission of the service of the 
publicity men, and it was from this spirit 
that the idea of the Wampas Frolic and 
Ball was evolved. The first of this series 
of annual entertainments, which have be- 
come universally conceded to be the lead- 
ing cinematic social events in California’s 
calendar, was held in the main dining room 
of the Ambassador Hotel. This room has 
a capacity of 3000 and it was jammed to 
the doors! Ever since this first affair, the 
Wampas has been faced by the necessity 
of securing a larger edifice to accommodate 
its co-workers in the film field and the 
members of the public who wish to attend 
the Frolics. 

The second Frolic served to open the 
then new Warner Brothers studio on Sun- 
set Boulevard, where the attendance ex- 
ceeded 6000 persons. The third year found 
the Wampas faced with a problem regard- 
ing late dancing, at that time the civic 
dilemma in Los Angeles, and after receiv- 
ing invitations from numerous municipali- 




1 926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



51 




Los Angeles New Shrine Civic Auditorium, where the Wampas will hold their fifth Annual Frolic, February 4. 



ties throughout the United States, the pub- 
licity men finally accepted the offer per- 
sonally tendered at a Wampas meeting by 
the municipal authorities of San Francisco. 
Accordingly, the Frolic was held in the 
Bay City, at its Civic Auditorium, where 
the attendance reached about 8000 — almost 
half as many being turned away when the 
fire department closed the doors to prevent 
excessive crowding. 

This third Frolic did far more than 
merely change the dance law in Los An- 
geles — it served to cement the friendly re- 
lations between San Francisco and its sister 
city in Southern California as no other 
event had done. It was the occasion for 
the greatest hegira which has ever occurred 
in the motion picture world : Seventy stars 
of the first magnitude, accompanied by 
Wampas members and their guests, as well 
as hundreds of other Angelenos, filled the 
three special trains which took the party 
north. Every California city within 200 
miles of San Francisco sent official dele- 
gations to this Frolic, giving it a genuinely 
state-wide flavor. 

Last year the Wampas again had to face 
the necessity of a larger auditorium to ac- 
commodate its potential guests at the 
Frolic. Fortunately the Ambassador had 
erected such an edifice in its grounds, and 
so that was the scene of the fourth Frolic. 
This year the same problem also arose, and 
we are very fortunate in having the mag- 
nificent Shrine Civic Auditorium to house 
our guests of that evening. 

For the first time in the history of the 
Wampas, we have been able to offer not 
only a mardi gras show, consisting of 
general dancing interspersed by numerous 
elaborate presentations; this year we have 
taken advantage of the unparalleled oppor- 



tunities of the Shrine stage and the tre- 
mendous ballroom to offer a twin enter- 
tainment, of which the details are narrated 
elsewhere. 

The publicity men who have been re- 
sponsible for the elevation to stardom of 
practically every screen celebrity, instituted 
an official Wampas custom just before the 
first Frolic, which has continued every 
year and which we expect to practice an- 
nually indefinitely. Each year the Wam- 
pas selects the thirteen most promising 
young leading women of the screen, based 
on a careful study of their talents, achieve- 
ments to date and future probabilities. 
Hitherto, we have called these girls Baby 
Stars. Starting this year, we are calling 
them “Stars of 1926,” because the Wam- 
pas is convinced that these girls will 
achieve the heights of stardom during the 
calendar year in which they are selected. 

The W ampas selections for each year 
have been as follows : 

1922: Helen Ferguson, Bessie Love, 
Colleen Moore, Mary Philbin, Pauline 
Starke, Lila Lee, Jacqueline Logan, 
Maryon Aye, Louise Lorraine, Kathryn 
McGuire, Lois Wilson, Claire Windsor 
and Patsy Ruth Miller. 

1923: Eleanor Boardman, Pauline 

Garon, Laura LaPlante, Virginia Browne 
Faire, Derelys Purdue, Ethel Shannon, 
Margaret Leahy, Dorothy Devore, Betty 
Francisco, Kathleen Key, Helen Lynch, 
Jobyna Ralston and Evelyn Brent. 

1924: Clara Bow, Blanche Mehaffey, 
Margaret Morris, Hazel Keener, Lucille 
Rickson, Gloria Grey, Elinor Fair, Dor- 
othy Mackaill, Carmelita Geraghty, 
Julanne Johnston, Lillian Rich, Alberta 
Vaughn and Ruth Hiatt. 



1925: Betty Arlen, Violet Avon, Olive 
Borden, Anne Cornwall, Ena Gregory, 
Madeline Hurlock, Natalie Joyce, Joan 
Meredith, June Marlow, Evelyn Pierce, 
Dorothy Revier, Duane Thompson and 
Lola Todd. 

Last year the Wampas went one step 
further: it instituted a Screen Achievement 
Trophy, which was presented at the last 
Frolic and will be presented at the next, 
and annually henceworth. The award is 
given to the girl of the last four groups of 
W ampas selections who has made the 
greatest professional strides since her nom- 
ination. The girl is selected by a group 
of judges consisting of the editors of the 
national fan magazines, the trade papers 
within the motion picture industry and 
the film editors of the local newspapers. 

Last year the cup was donated by Ar- 
thur J. Klein and was presented to Colleen 
Moore. This year the great silver cup 
has been donated by the Paul G. Hoffman 
Company, Inc. 

Even in an industry which has itself 
been termed an infant, but whose growth 
has been the most phenomenal in the his- 
tory of the world, the development of the 
Wampas has been an outstanding phenom- 
enon. To list its achievements, its chari- 
ties and its other activities within the mo- 
tion picture industry would sound like 
braggadocio. But they have elevated it to 
an institution of deserved national promi- 
nence, known wherever motion pictures are 
shown, and honored and respected univer- 
sally. 

In elevating the dignity of the profes- 
sion whose mouthpiece it is, the Wampas 
has served the entire film field and, through 
this service, it has made a distinct contri- 
bution to the world’s progress. 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




D EEP in the hearts of us all there 
linger memories that are treas- 
ured for their association with 
days that are gone. No matter how blase 
we may become in later years it is with a 
delicious sense of reminiscence that we turn 
back the pages of memory’s book and live 
again amid scenes and friends of yesteryear. 

No more vivid illustration of this truism 
can I conceive than that which was pre- 
sented at The Writers on the evening of 
January 21st when Commodore J. Stuart 
Blackton, incidental to the previewing of 
his latest production “Bride of the Storm” 
brought back to the film colony of Holly- 
wood memories of the Vitagraph days of 
a decade and a half ago. Mere words on 
a sheet of paper can not begin to do justice 
to the heart thrills of that evening as on 
the silver sheet of the club were flashed 
scenes and faces dear to everyone who fol- 
lowed the motion picture during its early 
days. 

Commodore Blackton can always be 
counted upon to do the beautiful thing, to 
inject the delicate note of sentiment, but 
I doubt if he has ever done anything that 
has given greater pleasure to the film folks 
than his presentation of “Reminiscences of 
1915.” It was in truth a work of love, 
for long hours, extending over weeks and 
even months, had been expended by the 
“Guv’nor” and his son in digging out of 
the film archives of the old Vitagraph 
studio (now a part of the Warner Bros. 
West Coast Studios) scenes from Vita- 
graph productions showing the old favorites 
of the screen as thev were in those days of 
1910 and 1915. 

And then, when this film had been com- 
pletely assembled, the Commodore did the 
most beautiful thing of all. Searching 
throughout the film colony of Hollywood 
he secured the addresses of every member 
of what he affectionately terms the Vita- 
graph Alumni and to each he sent a per- 
sonal invitation to be his guest on that 
evening. The response to that invitation is 
indicative of the love which the old guard 
of the films bear to him who in those days, 
was their chief. 

Tears were very near the surface as old 
friends and partners of the films met, 
some of them after intervals of years, in 
the assembly rooms of the club prior open- 
ing of the doors leading to the large dining 
room in which screen and stage presenta- 
tions are made. I am perfectly willing to 
admit that there was a queer tugging 
around my own heart and that my glasses 
fogged up unexpectedly as I watched these 
favorites of yesterday reliving old memo- 
ries. And at no time was this feeling 
stronger in me than as I watched Kate 




Price meeting, amid such circumstances 
when memories were so keenly alive, those 
with whom she was so closely associated in 
the older days. With the emotionalism of 
her Irish ancestry, Miss Price made no at- 
tempt to hide her feelings as laughing and 
crying she greeted first one and then 
another, and was greeted with an affection 
indicative of her place in the hearts of all. 

Commodore Blackton had arranged his 
program with the true instincts of show- 
manship, opening with an amusing comedy 
of the vintage of 1910, bearing the intrigu- 
ing title “The Boy, The Bust and the 
Bath,” and featuring a cast composed of 
Florence Lawrence, Bill Shea, Hector 
Dion and Buster Blackton, then a mis- 
chievous boy of nine. 

The quaint costumes and sets of that 
little comedy, not much longer than its 
title, created just the right atmosphere into 
which blended the presentation of “Remi- 
niscenes of 1915.” The picture opened 
with a view of the Vitagraph offices in 
Brooklyn showing Commodore Blackton 
and A. E. Smith directing the early des- 
tinies of what may in all verity be con- 
sidered the “cradle of the American 
screen.” And then came bits from nearly 
a hundred productions showing the players 
of the Vitagraph Stock Company as it was 
then composed. 

While we laughed again as we had in 
former days at his inimitible drollery there 
was a suspicious break in our voices, a 
dimming of the eyes, as John Bunny 
stepped forth from behind the curtain of 
the past and greeted us from the screen. 
It was all so real that the gates of time 
rolled back, and we forgot the superfea- 
tures of today. The little bit of comedy 
that followed, in which Bunny and Flora 
Finch appeared in their familiar roles, 
brought another flood of memories. Mr. 
and Mrs. Sidney Drew struck an equally 
responsive chord as we saw them once 
more enacting the subtle comedy sequences 
that endeared them to the hearts of the film 
world of a decade ago. 

It was with a distinct thrill that I saw 
again Mary Maurice, whose mother roles 
has so firmly enshrined her in our memo- 
ries. And how reminiscent it was of those 
early days that we saw Maurice Costello, 
dimpled Lillian Walker, Arline Pretty, 
Edith Storey, Mary Anderson, Wally 
Reid, and the host of others who were 
such favorites then and later. Clara Kim- 
ball Young in a typical scene, Anita Stew- 
art and Earle Williams; Marc McDer- 



mott, Harry Morey, Ned Finley, James 
Morrison and Hughie Mack. The ap- 
pearance of each was greeted with en- 
thusiasm and a momentary buzz of voices, 
as irrepressible reminiscences demanded ut- 
terance. Many who were present saw 
themselves at the outset of their careers. 
Dolores and Helen Costello, now climbing 
to stardom as belles of the screen, were 
seen with Bobby and Helen Connelly in 
juvenile roles. 

Then there were, present on the screen, 
if not in person, Rose Tapley, William 
Shea, Florence Turner, Patsy De Forrest, 
George Holt, Van Dyke Brooke, L. Roger 
Lytton, Lucille Lee Stewart, Templar 
Saxe, Leah Baird, Evart Overton, Ralph 
Ince, Charles Richman, Corinne Griffith, 
Charles Kent, Hector Dion, Dorothy 
Kelly, Edward Phillips, Louise Beaudet, 
Robert Gaillord, Don Cameron, Harry 
Northrup, Eulalie Jensen, E. K. Lincoln, 
Alice Joyce, Billie Billings, Naomi Chil- 
ders, Wilfrid North, E. H. Sothern, Wal- 
ter Grail, Florence Lawrence, Norma 
Talmadge, Julia S wayne Gordon, Anne 
Schaefer, William Duncan, Josephine 
Earle, Anders Randolph, Denton Vane, 
Edna May, Antonio Moreno, Peggy Hy- 
land, Jewell Hunt and Katherine Lewis. 

As a most entertaining revelation of the 
strides that have in truth been made in 
film production since those days the Com- 
modore then gave us a typical drama fea- 
turing Helene Costello as “the little child 
who led them,” Louise Beaudet and Don- 
ald Hall. In its day this production, the 
title of which I didn’t note carefully 
enough to remember, was an intense, dra- 
matic thriller. One of those pictures that 
tore at your heart strings and made the 
sob sisters sob. As the story unfolded it 
struck a responsive chord in my memory 
and I recalled the time when I first saw it 
and how I was thrilled by its pathos, by 
the sentiment of its titles and the intensity 
of its dramatic structure. Yet, when I 
saw it that night at The Writers, I 
laughed as I haven’t laughed in a long 
while. It was excruciatingly funny. The 
titles were a veritable scream. The exag- 
gerated action, so typical of those days, 
even to the inevitable chase sequence, 
seemed so ridiculous that I literally howled 
with the rest of the audience. Verily 
times have changed and the films have ad- 
vanced in technique, in realism and in ar- 
tistry. 

Commodore Blackton had planned his 
program well. Nothing could have fitted 
us for the preview of his latest picture 
more admirably than that old-time “dram- 
mer,” and when, following his little 
(Continued, on Page 67) 



1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



53 





E mile chautard, who a few 

years ago was one of the industry’s 
foremost directors, has been engaged to por- 
tray the leading 
character role i n 
“P a r i s at Mid- 
night”, Frances 
Marion’s new Met- 
ropolitan picture, 
based upon the Bal- 
zac classic, “Pere 
Goriot”. 

Chautard’s fame 
in this country has 
been confined to di- 
recting, for although 
he was formerly one of the most popular 
actors in France, he has never appeared on 
either the stage or screen in America. Here 
he is best known for his direction of many 
of the screen successes in which Pauline 
Frederick, Elsie Ferguson and Alice Brady 
were starred. 

In France, Chautard was leading man 
for the great tragedienne, Mme. Rejane, 
for nearly twenty years and achieved parti- 
cular fame for his portrayal of Napoleon 
in “Mme. Sans Gene”. Later he was di- 
rector of the Royal Theatre in Brussels and 
still later he created the title role in “Alias 
Jimmy Valentine” in Paris. 

Thirteen years ago in Paris Chautard 
directed a screen version of “The Merry 
Widow” in which Maurice Tourneur por- 
trayed a leading role. 

* * * 

M arshall neilan’S acquisition 

by Paramount forms one of the most 
interesting news angles of the month in 



that it promises theatre goers a series of 
productions combining Neilan’s unfailing 
entertainment skill with the producing 
company’s extensive facilities. 

Neilan has signed a long-term contract 
with Paramount, under the terms of which 
he will make his productions at his own 
studio at Edendale, California, backed by 
the facilities and resources of the producing 
organization in Lasky Studio. 

The first story Mr. Neilan will produce 
under the new arrangement is now under 
way in the scenario department, and its 
production probably will start near the 
middle of February. It will be released 
during the fall of 1926. Following this 
production, he will direct Betty Bronson in 
a picture of the type that made him famous 
as the director of many of Mary Pick- 
ford’s most successful offerings. 

* * 

ANTICIPATING a revival of South 
Sea Island pictures in the not distant 
future, Harry Oliver, art director for 
Mary Pickford, is 
taking advantage of 
the Pickford-Fair- 
banks round - the - 
world tour to get in 
a little sightseeing 
himself and at the 
same time pick up 
at first hand accu- 
rate data concerning 
some of the out-of- 
the-way places of 
the world. Accord- 
ingly, accompanied by Mrs. Oliver and his 
daughter Amy, he sailed January 27 on the 



steamer Tahiti for Papeete where he will 
rest and paint, transferring to canvas the 
exotic beauties of the southern seas. The 
Olivers plan to be away from Hollywood 
some six months. 

* * * 

M AR YON AYE, dainty actress of the 
stage and screen, appears as the lead- 
ing feminine role in “Kosher Kitty Kelly,” 
a stage offering in 
San Francisco. 

She was playing 
in Colleen Moore’s 
“Irene” at the time 
the stage role was 
offered her, and the 
opening of the play 
was held off for a 
week, after a long- 
distance telephone 
consultation with 
the play producers, 
in order to allow Miss Aye to finish her 
screen role. 

A coach was sent to Los Angeles to whip 
Miss Aye into the “Kosher Kitty Kelly” 
part between scenes of Miss Moore’s pro- 
duction, and through the efforts of Alfred 
E. Green, who is directing the film, the 
actress was released as soon as possible, 
and caught the earliest train for San Fran- 
cisco. 

Miss Aye scored a hit in San Francisco 
some time ago when she played “White 
Collars” there, and perhaps it was this role 
that led to the new one. She will come 
to Los Angeles in “Kosher Kitty Kelly” 
before or shortly after this item comes off 
the press. 








54 



THE 



MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



C OMMODORE J. Stuart Blackton’s 
next production for Warner Brothers 
will be “Hell Bent for Heaven,” Thatcher 
Hughes’ Pulitzer prize play, which has 
been one of the season’s footlight sensa- 
tions from both ar- 
tistic and financial 
viewpoints. The 
play is being 
adapted for the 
screen by Marian 
Constance, and pro- 
d u c t i o n will be 
started as soon as 
the shooting script 
is completed. 

“Hell Bent for 
Heaven” will be 
known as a Blackton Production and one 
of the season’s big specials from Warner 
Brothers. The film rights of the play were 
purchased expressly for Commodore Black- 
ton. The play had a long run in New 
York and has appeared in Los Angeles, 
where it played for four weeks. 

* * * 

A BILITY to swim came in handy to 
L Bebe Daniels and Ricardo Cortez 
while filming some of the spectacular 
scenes of “Volcano,” a Paramount produc- 
tion in which they play featured roles. 

For the sake of 
realism, they were 
not permitted to 
swim in smooth wa- 
ter, but in the sort 
of rough water that 
the technical direc- 
tors thought would 
be stirred up by vol- 
canic activity and 
earthquake. More- 
over, a rain of 
ashes and debris fell 
all around them during the process of film- 
ing those particular scenes. 

Wallace Beery, Arthur Edmund Carew 
and Dale Fuller also play featured roles 
in “Volcano,” which is a William K. 
H oward production scenarized by Bernard 
McConville. 

# # * 

T HE golf champion of the Christie 
studio lot — a studio of golfers, by the 
way — has hung up an enviable record for 
his competitors to 
shoot at, and it will 
probably require 
considerable shoot- 
ing to bring this 
particular record 
down. Yes, it’s Neal 
Burns, and his feat 
was to make the 
sixth hole at the 
Lakeside Club, a 
two-hundred - yard, 
par-three hole, in 
two — not once, but four consecutive times. 
There were witnesses other than the caddy, 
of course ! 



It is said that the record is unique inso- 
far as local courses go. If, however, it is 
open to contest. Burns has agreed to settle 
the matter with any challenging studio 
golfer on any tee or green. 

Burns is one of the golf stars of the 
Christie-Metropolitan team, which has only 
been defeated once in meeting other studios. 
The team is composed of Charles Christie, 
Neal Burns, A. C. Cadwalader, Jack 
Noble, Jack Cunningham and George 
Melford. 

* * # 

P ART of the atmosphere that is going to 
be one of the appealing features of 
“The Volga Boatman” is to be supplied by 
Vasili Kalmykoff, formerly a line officer 
in “The White Army” of Admiral Kol- 
chak. Kalmykoff has been added to the 
technical staff of the 
second personally 
directed Cecil de 
Mille offering for 
Producers’ Distrib- 
uting Corporation. 

He speaks no 
English, working 
entirely through in- 
terpreters. Theo- 
dore Kosloff, Rus- 
sian dancer and ac- 
tor, and Kalmykoff 
will work together on technical points con- 
nected with the filming of this love story 
of a rough, colorful Volga boatman and a 
gently reared aristocrat. The background 
action of the story is that of the Russian 
revolution and social overthrow. 

One of Kalmykoff’s tasks is the training 
of Victor Varconi, who appears in the pro- 
duction as a prince in the White army'. 
Other featured players who appear in the 
story are William Boyd, Elinor Fair, Julia 
Fay'e, Theodore Kosloff and Robert 
Edeson. * * * 

T HE affiliation between Universal and 
the UFA company of Berlin by Carl 
Laemmle will, it is said, result in a whole- 
sale transference and exchange of stars 
from Berlin to Universal City and vice 
versa. 

There are many Universal stars who 
are quite as popular in Europe as they are 
in America, and these, probably, will be 
sent to UFA studios for parts in the Ger- 
man pictures, according to advices from 
Mr. Laemmle. Mary Philbin is being 
considered as the “Marguerite” for the big 
production of “Faust” which UFA is 
planning, with Emil Jennings as Mephisto. 
Laura La Plante, Virginia Valli, Reginald 
Denny, Jean Hersholt and many other 
stars may be sent abroad for one or several 
pictures. 

In return, Mr. Laemmle plans to import 
several stars and directors of the UFA 
company for work at Universal City. He 
has already arranged to bring Andre Mat- 
toni, a Czecho-Slovakian actor, and E. A. 
Dupont, a noted German director, to Hol- 
lywood, and future exchanges may involve 



such Continental stars as Emil Jannings, 
Werner Krauss, Lya de Putti, Zenia Des- 

ni, Lil Dagovar, Conrad Zeidt and others. 

* * * 

O N THE First National lot Harry 
Harry Langdon is to be found in the 
midst of his first feature-length comedy 
for that organization. In addition to em- 
barking on a new venture, Harry is dem- 
onstrating what the artist can accomplish 
with a bit of make- 
up, particularly in 
changing the size of 
the eyes. 

The usual thing 
in making up the 
ey'es is to rim them 
with black, so that 
they will appear 
larger. Langdon 
rims his eyes with 
white in order to 
accomplish just the 
opposite result. The white, he finds, makes 
his eyes appear much smaller on the screen 
than they really are.” 

“I wear white makeup around the eyes 
not only to make them look smaller, but 
to give a peculiar sheepish expression,” says 
Mr. Langdon. “This helps greatly with 
my pantomimic imitation of the timorous 
and bashful lover.” 

In order to enlarge and deepen the ex- 
pression of the eyes, Mr. Langdon advo- 
cates the use of red makeup rather than 
black. For giving an impression of dull- 
ness to the eyes, he uses green color around 
them. The white makeup is being used 
throughout his present feature, which is 
now in the seventh week of production. 
The story resulted from an original idea 
of Langdon’s, and is being directed by 

Harry Edwards. 

* * * 

T WO very fat and very serious-faced 
comedians of the screen shook hands 
on Hollywood Boulevard and wandered 
into a drug store to 
celebrate the chance 
meeting with a 
drink a la Volstead. 

Walter Hiers sat 
down at the coun- 
ter, but Ned A. 

Sparks refused to 
do so, even at Wal- 
ter’s pressing invi- 
tation. 

“Can’t!” he 
smiled. “I’ve been 
learning to ice skate.” 

“What’s that got to do with — ” began 
Hiers. Then, remembering when he had 
first learned to skate, he stood up and the 
two comedians drank to the good old days 

of the high bar and the footrail — standing. 
# * * 

A MAN who lost his memory during 
the war and has since been trying to 
find someone who knows him, has been 
given a position at Universal Studios by 
Acting General Manager Harry MacRae. 













19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



55 



The name by which he is now known is 
Jerry Talbot. Talbot has conducted a 
world-wide search to find people who know 
him, putting his picture into American 
and foreign publications. He has an accu- 
rate memory of the events of the war and 
remembers the unit, the Sixth Marines, in 
which he served. Several buddies he has 
encountered from that outfit knew him but 
could not recall his name. 

Talbot only remembers the past 18 
months of his life since the war, coming 
to himself in the Veterans’ Bureau Hos- 
pital at Palo Alto. He retains absolutely 
no memory of his life before the war. He 
seems to be of French descent, is about 
thirty-five and fought in the battle of Bois 
de Belleau. He also remembers the battle 
of Chateau Thierry hazily, and believes 
that the wound which caused his loss of 
memory was sustained there. 

Seventy-five men of his outfit were killed 
at Chateau Thierry and he believes he is 
listed as one of these, but an attempt to 
trace down the names and relatives of these 
men has proved futile. The American 
Legion is at present working on the prob- 
lem of tracing his identity. 

Talbot’s work at Universal is in the 
technical department, and he will also do 
extra work in pictures in the hope that 
some friend will recognize him when the 
films are distributed all over the world. 

* * * 

(4TV/IISS DE LA MOTTE,” said a 
1*1 Hollywood newsboy to Margue- 
rite, “I gotta kid brother who never seen 
a movie. You’re in a show up the street; 
will you gimme the 
price of a couple of 
ducats?” 

Touched by the 
thought of a child 
who had never seen 
a motion picture, 
the star handed the 
urchin a dollar. As 
an afterthought, she 
asked: “When are 

you going to take 
him to the show?” 

“I ain’t gonna take him,” giggled the 
boy, having removed himself to a safe dis- 
tance. “Em gonna take me girl. Me kid 
brother what ain’t seen a movie is just five 
weeks old.” 

Miss De La Motte believes that such a 
good joke on herself is worth the dollar 
invested. 

* * * 

A HOLIDAY that cost thirty thousand 
dollars ! 

That was the result of a bit of figuring 
done by Edwin Carewe, producer-director 
for First National Productions, when he 
went over his expense list for Christmas 
week. 

It chanced that he was starting “Heirs 
Apparent,” a production featuring Lloyd 
Hughes and Mary Astor. Christmas day 



would break right into the busiest part of 
his schedule. But he decided that Christ- 
mas must be observed regardless, and al- 
though it cost him so much money, he now 
feels repaid by the added enthusiasm of his 
cast and production staff, an enthusiasm 
which may make the work go so rapidly 
that a good deal more than the thirty 
thousand dollars will be saved. 

The losses had to be figured on set rent- 
als, salaries, the rent of equipment and 
many miscellaneous items that enter into 
film bookkeeping. “Heirs Apparent” is to 
be Carewe’s first offering for 1926. 

* * * 

ACCORDING to Cecil de Mille, 95 
2 \ per cent of the inexperienced players 
who appear on the screen or try to break 
into pictures depend too much on facial 
expression in their pantomime, or “act all 
over the place and 
smother their dra- 
matic points by an 
abundance of i 1 1 - 
chosen gestures.” 

De Mille speaks 
not only with the 
authority of a great 
director, but as the 
discoverer of much 
talent that now oc- 
c u p i e s prominent 
places in the screen 
limelight. He discovered and trained such 
stars as Gloria Swanson, Bebe Daniels, 
Leatrice Joy, Rod La Rocque and Thomas 
Meighan. 

“The accomplished artist is one whose 
hands are trained to help and not to hin- 
der. The best facial expression is helpless 
without thoughtful pantomime with the 
hands,” he maintains. 

“Girls beat men at this phase of film 
work. The feminine habit of ‘talking with 
the hands’ is a distinct asset, when used 
with intelligence and discretion. Unfor- 
tunately, through self-consciousness, many 
girls overdo gesture. Men, conversely, go 
to opposite extremes and have to be trained 
from ‘woodenness’ into graceful use of 
their extremities. 

“William Boyd, featured in my produc- 
tion, ‘The Volga Boatman,’ once believed 
that pockets were the only place for hands. 
But as soon as the stiffness was eliminated 
from his arm movements, he found the in- 
between point where gestures are most ef- 
fective for nicely balanced pantomime. He 
is but one of the hundreds of actors who 
have had to learn that their hands are 
valuable for something other than writing 
checks or changing tires.” 

* * * 

ACCORDING to an announcement 
1 \. from the Pickford-Fairbanks head- 
quarters, Joseph M. Schenck will take 
over the studio used by Mary and Doug 
while that couple are absent on their Eu- 



ropean tour. It has not yet been decided 
which of the various 
Schenck units will 
work at the Pick- 
ford-Fairbanks stu- 
dios, but indications 
now point to the 
transference of the 
Norma Talmadge 
and Constance Tal- 
madge companies to 
the new quarters. 

Plans are now 
being considered for 
the enlargement of facilities at the Pick- 
ford-Fairbanks Studios in order that the 
Schenck units may have more room to 
work. Already a large piece of property 
has been added to the rear of the “lot” 
and there is every possibility that a new 
stage, larger than any now in existence, 
will be built. 

Moving the Schenck companies to this 
studio is merely a temporary arrangement, 
according to the report; if Mr. Fairbanks 
and Miss Pickford make a picture abroad 
the Schenck companies no doubt will re- 
main in possession of their studios for a 
year. 

* * * 

E STELLE TAYLOR seems to have a 
regular menagerie of pets at her 
house. Separate reports on their doings 
show that there is a “Patsy,” a “Clara,” 
a “Pete,” and a “Tom” of the feline tribe, 
and a “Punch” and 
a “Duke” represent- 
ing the canine. 

“Tom” is a cat of 
the garden or alley 
variety, rescued by 
Miss Taylor last 
spring when he 
came meowing for 
admittance at her 
door, dragging after 
him a maimed leg. 

He was nursed 
back to health, and dominated the house- 
hold, even her English pug “Punch,” until 
the arrival of Jack Dempsey’s Great Dane, 
“Duke.” “Tom” gave one look at the 
newcomer and fled, and he hasn’t been 
heard nor seen since. 

Another report concerns “Punch,” 
known as Estelle’s “$10,000 dog.” It seems 
that “Punch” is liable to justify his ex- 
pensive reputation, despite the fact that 
customs officials finally placed his real 
value at $58 — if he persists in indulging 
in his appetite for costly bedroom slippers. 

“Every year just before Christmas I 
seem to establish a friendship for some 
pup who makes his meals on slippers,” Miss 
Taylor remarks. “Two years ago, my sis- 
ter’s fox terrier raised hob with my foot- 
wear. All my friends knew about it and 
they gave me slippers for Christmas. 
Then last year, Mr. Dempsey gave me a 
Chow and again I was slipperless.” 










February 



56 THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 

WHAT THE DIRECTORS ARE DOING 



Clarence 

Badger 


Directing “Miss Brewster's 
Millions” for Paramount, 
starring Bebe Daniels. 


Edwin 

Carewe 


Directing “The Heir Appar- 
ent” with Lloyd Hughes and 
Mary "Astor for First Na- 
tional. Scenario by Lois 

Leeson. 


James 

Flood 


Directing “Why Girls Go 
Back Home,” featuring Patsy 
Ruth Miller, Clive Brook and 
George O’Hara. Warner 

Bros, release. 


Sylvano 

Balboni 


Finishing “The Far Cry” for 
First National release, fea- 
turing Blanche Sweet. Scen- 
ario by Katherine Kava- 
naugh. 


Benjamin 

Christenson 


Directing Norma Shearer in 
“The Light Eternal” for 
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Scen- 
ario by Mr. Christensen. 


Emmett 

Flynn 


Directing “Yellow Fingers,” 
featuring Olive Borden, for 
Fox. Scenario by Eve Un- 
sell. 


King 

Baggott 


Directing “The Perch of the 
Devil” for Universal, featur- 
ing Mae Busch and Pat 
O’Malley. Adapted by Mary 
O’Hara from Gertrude Ath- 
erton’s novel. 


Eddie 

Cline 


Directing a series of pictures 
for Mack Sennett featuring 
Alice Day. 


John 

Ford 


Editing and cutting “The 
World of Promise” for Fox. 
This is the new title for 
“Three Bad Men.” All-star 
cast. 


William 

Beaudine 


Loaned by Warner Bros, to 
Famous Players-Lasky Corp. 
to direct Douglas McLean in 
“That’s My Baby.” 


Allan 

Crossland 


Editing “Don Juan,” featur- 
ing John Barrymore, for 
Warner Bros. Scenario by 
Bess Meredith. 


Svend 

Gade 


(Between pictures.) 


Monta 

Bell 


Directing the famous Ibanez 
novel, “The Torrent,” featur- 
ing Ricardo Cortez and. Greta 
Garbo for Metro-Goldwyn- 
Maver. 


Irving 

Cummings 


Preparing “Rustling for Cu- 
pid” for Fox. 


A1 

Greene 


Finishing “Irene,” starring 
Colleen Moore, for First Na- 
tional. Scenario by June 
Mathis. 


Herbert 

Blache 


Directing “The Mystery 

Club” from the story by Ar- 
thur Somers Roche. Univer- 
sal all-star. 


Allan 

Dwan 


Preparing “Padlocked” for 
Paramount. Not yet cast. 


Alan 

Hale 


Directing “Forbidden Wa- 
ters,” featuring Priscilla 

Dean, from an original story 
by Percy Heath. 


J. Stuart 
Blackton 


Directing “Hell Bent for 
Heaven” by Warner Bros. 
Scenario by Marion Con- 
stance from the $25,000 Pulit- 
zer prize play. 


Cecil 

DeMille 


Editing and cutting “The 
Volga Boatman.” All-star 
cast. Scenario by Konrad 
Bercovici. 


Hobart 

Henley 


Directing Charles Ray and 
Eleanor Boardman in “The 
Auction Block” for Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer. All - star 
cast. Scenario by Frederick 
and Fanny Hatton. 


Frank 

Borzage 


Directing “The Dixie Mer- 
chant for Fox. All-star cast. 


Reeves 

Eason 


Directing George Walsh in 
“The Test of Donald Nor- 
ton” for Chadwick Pictures 
Corp. 


George 

Hill 


Directing the famous Rex 
Beach story, “The Barrier,” 
for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. 
All-star cast. Scenario by 
Harvey Gates. 


Clarence 

Brown 


Directing Norma Talmadge 
and Ronald Colman in “Kiki” 
for First National release. 
Scenario by Hans Kraely. 


Harry 

Edwards 


Directing Harry Langdon in 
his first feature length com- 
edy for First National. The 
title is “Tramp, Tramp, 
Tramp,” and is an original 
story by Langdon himself. 


Lambert 

Hillyer 


Finishing “The Second 
Chance,” featuring Anna Q. 
Nilsson, for First National. 
Scenario by Eve Unsell. 


Dimitri 

Buchowetzki 


Directing an as yet untitled 
picture for Paramount, star- 
ring Pola Negri. 


George 

Fitzmaurice 


Editing “The Son of a 
Sheik,” starring Rudolph 

Valentino. A Joseph M. 

Schenck production. 


Renaud 

Hoffman 


Directing “The Unknown 
Soldier” from an original 
story by Dorothy Farnum. 
All-star cast. 


Christy 

Cabanne 


Directing “Monte Carlo”, 
featuring Lew Cody, Ger- 
trude Olmstead and Roy 
D’Arcy for Mctro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer. 


Victor 

Fleming 


Directing “The Blind Daugh- 
ter” for Paramount, featuring 
Esther Ralston, Earnest Tor- 
rance and Jack Holt. 


E. Mason 
Hopper 


Directing “Paris at Mid- 
night” with all-star cast. 
Taken from the Balzac novel, 
“Pere Goriot.” Scenario by 
Francis Marion. 



19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



57 





WHAT THE DIRECTORS ARE DOING 


William K. 
Howard 


Finishing “Red Dice,” fea- 
turing Rod La Rocque, for 
Cecil DeMille. Scenario by 
Jeanie McPherson. 


George 

Melford 


Directing ‘‘Whispering 
Smith” from the novel by 
Frank H. Spearman. All-star 
cast. 


William A. 
Seiter 


Directing “Rolling Home,” 
featuring Reginald Denny, 
for Universal. 


Rupert 

Julian 


Preparing “Silence” for De- 
Mille. Scenario by Beulah 
Marie Dix. 


Walter 

Morosco 


Directing “Outlawed,” Rin- 
Tin-Tin’s next for Warner 
Bros. 


Paul 

Sloane 


Directing “Eve’s Leaves,” 
featuring Leatrice Joy, for 
DeMille. Scenario by Elmer 
Harris. 


Earl 

Kenton 


Directing “The Sap,” featur- 
ing Kenneth Harlan and 
Mary McAllister, for Warner 
Bros. 


Marshall 

Neilan 


Finishing “Wild Oats Lane,” 
a Marshall Neilan production, 
featuring Viola Dana and 
Robert Agnew. 


Edward 

Sloman 


Directing “The Old Soak” 
for Universal. 


Henry 

King 


Recently finished “Partners 
Again,” one of the “Potash 
and Perlmutter” series. 


Fred 

Niblo 


Enjoying a well-earned rest 
after completing “Ben-Hur.” 


Sam 

Taylor 


Directing Harold Lloyd’s 
next feature length comedy, 
“For Heaven’s Sake.” 


Rowland 
N. Lee 


In Europe. 


Albert 

Parker 


Directing Douglas Fairbanks 
in “The Black Pirate” for 
United Artists release. 


Maurice 

Tourneur 


Directing the Marion Fairfax 
production, “The Desert 

Healer,” featuring Barbara 
Bedford and Lewis Stone. 


Robert Z. 
Leonard 


Directing Corinne Griffith in 
“Mile. Modiste” for First 
National release. Adapted 
from the stage play by Ade- 
laide Heilborn. 


Harry 

Pollard 


Directing “Beware of 
Blondes,” featuring Laura 
La Plante and Edward Ever- 
ett Horton, for Universal. 
Scenario by Mel Brown. 


King 

Vidor 


Directing “Bardelys the Mag- 
nificent” for Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer. From the novel by 
Sabatini. 


Frank 

Lloyd 


Just finished “The Splendid 
Road” with Anna Q. Nils- 
son, his own independent 
production. 


Paul 

Powell 


Directing “The Prince of Pil- 
sen,” featuring Anita Stew- 
art. Belasco production 

adapted from the stage play 
by Anthony Coldewey. 


Raoul 

Walsh 


Preparing to start work on 
“What Price Glory” for Fox. 
Still uncast. 


Del 

Lord 


Directing Billy Bevan in all- 
star Mack Sennett series. 


Lynn 

Reynolds 


Directing “Chip of the Flying 
U,” starring “Hoot” Gibson. 
Universal picture, adapted 
from the famous B. M. 
Bower book. 


Roland 

West 


Directing “The Bat” for 
United Artists. All-star 

cast. Scenario by Julienne 
Josepheson. 


Ernst 

Lubitsch 


Preparing to produce “The 
Door Mat” for Warner 
Bros, from the stage play by 
Ethel Clifton and Branda 
Fowler. As yet uncast. 


Phil 

Rosen 


Directing an as yet untitled 
feature for Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer, featuring Renee 

Adoree and Conrad Nagel. 


William 

Wiley 


Directing “Lazy Lightning,” 
featuring Art Acord, for Uni- 
versal. Another B. M. Bower 
novel. 


Leo 

McCarey 


Directing a series of come- 
dies for Hal Roach, featuring 
Charlie Chase. 


Roy 

Del Ruth 


Directing “The Grifters,” fea- 
turing Dolores Costello and 
Johnny Harron, for Warner 
Bros. Scenario by Daryl 
Francis Zanuck. 


John Griffith 
Wray 


Directing “Hell's 400”, fea- 
turing Margaret Livingston, 
for Fox. Scenario by Brad- 
ley King. 


Robert 

McGowan 


Still fathering “Our Gang” 
over at Hal Roach Studios. 


Edward 

Sedgewick 


Directing “The Continental 
Limited,” all-star cast, for 







Universal. Scenario by Cur- 
tis Benton. 



58 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




M OTION picture work is never fin- 
ished. The whistle does not blow 
to release the men and women en- 
gaged in the creative side of the picture 
industry from their toil and their respon- 
sibility. The star who is not before the 
camera is studying a new role and select- 
ing costumes, or negotiating for a new 
contract. The extra who is not working 
is seeking another part. The director who 
is not beside his cameras is superintending 
the cutting of a film just finished, or work- 
ing over the script of a production soon to 
be begun. 

It is this condition which tends to limit 
personal contacts to business hours, to iso- 
late the social and co-operative forces of 
the industry, and to narrow the interests 
and points of view of the thousands of men 
and women who are engaged in the mani- 
fold activities of motion picture production. 

The formation of clubs and association 
of all sorts, linking the interest of indi- 
viduals with groups, of groups with other 
groups, and of the motion picture industry 
as a whole with the public it serves, is a 
comparatively recent movement. But al- 
ready it has gone a long way toward ac- 
complishing its purpose. Individual insul- 
ation and isolation of interest has been 
broken down. The force of constructive 
co-operation is being brought to bear with 
more and more force. A great breadth of 
contact has been established. 

The result is that today, in spite of the 
exacting and absorbing nature of the work 
of most persons engaged in the making 
of screen productions, the motion picture 
art and industry has community interests, 
group and general co-operation, and organ- 
ized social force for fostering the best of 
relations with its patrons, comparable to 
and perhaps excelling those of any other 
industry. Through clubs and forces of 
organization of a non-commercial variety, 
the scattered interests and ambitions of in- 
dividuals within the industry have been 
gathered and crystallized into a responsible, 
co-operative, constructive force of great 
power and limitless possibilities. 

Among the most important and interest- 
ing clubs and organizations that have been 
created as direct or indirect by-products of 
the screen are The Motion Picture Direc- 
tors’ Association, The Writers Club and 
Screen Writers Guild, the Society of Amer- 
ican Cinematographers, The Western As- 
sociation of Motion Picture Advertisers, or 
Wampas; its feminine counterpart The 



Wasps; The Two Thirty-three Club; The 
Masquers; The Troupers Club and The 
Screen Club. 

Each of these organizations has its sep- 
arate and individual entity, interests, and 
functions. Each has its own limitations 
and scope in membership. Several ties 
unite them all, however; they are affiliated 
in general community interest, in working 
for the welfare of the motion picture in- 
dustry and its people and in fostering 
among their members a feeling of joint 
and individual responsibility to society in 
the creation of an entertainment of such 
giant scope and influence as that which 
the cinema offers. 

The Motion Picture Directors Associa- 
tion, of which William Beaudine is presi- 
dent, has on its membership roster many 
of the most prominent screen directors in 
the industry. The organization has its 
headquarters in Hollywood at 1925 North 
Wilcox Avenue, in a homelike, old-fash- 
ioned dwelling house. 

There, directors who have wone their 
place in the sun exchange gossip, ideas, 
reminiscences and criticism with the newer 
recruits. Social events, professional or gen- 
eral, are given at frequent intervals, among 
the most characteristic of which is the cus- 
tom of giving banquets in honor of out- 
standing achievements. For example, a 
banquet of this sort was given in honor of 
King Vidor, in recognition and praise of 
his work in directing “The Big Parade.” 
Just before that event, John Ford occupied 
the place of honor at a similar function, in 
celebration of his success with that classic 
of pioneer Western spectacles, “The Iron 
Horse.” 

An organization much akin to the Di- 
rectors’ Association is the American So- 
ciety of Cinematographers. Homer A. Scott 
is president, and the Hollywood headquar- 
ters are at 1219 Guaranty Building, where 
permanent clubrooms are maintained. The 
cameramen meet here socially and officially, 
as an organization or as individual mem- 
bers of the club. The organization has an 
official publication, “The American Cin- 
ematographer,” which is devoted to club 
news and technical discussion. 

The Writers Club of Hollywood main- 
tains its separate identity as a local organ- 
ization, although affiliated with the Screen 
Writers Guild of the Authors League of 
America, and also with the Authors 
League of America itself. It happens at 
this time that the same president, Rupert 



Hughes, serves both The Writers Club of 
Hollywood, and the Screen Writers Guild. 

Organized four years ago, with Frank 
E. Woods as first president, The Writers 
quickly won a name for their social func- 
tions, their banquets, plays, and previews 
of photoplays. Their clubhouse, which is 
at 6700 Sunset Boulevard, is a big, ram- 
bling, ivy-clad structure of homelike at- 
mosphere similar to that of the directors’ 
headquarters. It has a library, lounging 
room, billiard room, dining hall and thea- 
tre. The latter is well equipped for pre- 
senting either stage or screen offerings. The 
building and grounds are owned by mem- 
bers of The Writers. 

The stage plays given at The Writers 
are, for the most part, written by the mem- 
bers, and since the inception of the club 
seventy-six one-act plays have been pre- 
sented. The giving of plays is a regular 
affair, in charge of a play committee, of 
which Alfred A. Cohn is chairman. Some 
of the most successful one-act plays of the 
past several years have been given their in- 
itial tryouts at The Writers, where they 
are subjected to a merciless but thoroughly 
constructive criticism. 

In addition to banquets and other func- 
tions within the club membership, events 
of importance in connection with the mo- 
tion picture industry and the literary world 
have been celebrated. One of the first of 
these was a dinner welcoming the advent 
of George Ade to Hollywood, while one 
of the most recent affairs of this sort was 
held in honor of Michael Arlen’s visit to 
the film colony. 

The Wampas is a familiar name for 
The Western Association of Motion Pic- 
ture Advertisers. As the title indicates, 
this association is composed of advertising 
and publicity men connected with all 
branches of the motion picture industry. 
Wampas semi-monthly meetings are held 
at the clubhouse of The Writers. 

Each year, the Wampas stage a very- 
large and highly advertised event, the 
Wampas Frolic. At this function, which 
is an entertainment open to the public, the 
most novel attraction is the introduction of 
thirteen young women whom the organiza- 
tion has selected by vote as the most prom- 
ising actresses not hitherto presented by the 
Wampas, or already famous as stars. Fur- 
ther details concerning the Wampas organ- 
ization are given in another article in this 

(Continued on Page 60) 



1 9 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



59 



The Motor Car Trend for 1926 

(Continued from Page 28) 



these days of ever-increasing wheel traffic 
throughout the country. 

Super-chargers to pep up fuel combus- 
tion, increasing power and speed and mate- 
rially decreasing fuel consumption are still 
being tested by race drivers and technical 
engineers for future adoption on stock cars. 
That will usher in a still more startling 
era. Some makers have incorporated the 
super-charger idea to a limited extent but 
sensational results as to high mileage are 
still to come. 

Some fours have been replaced by sixes 
just as some sixes have been supplanted 
by eights. There are about fourteen eights 
of various types now being built by well- 
known manufacturers. 

Twenty years ago it was a triangular 
battle between ones, twos and fours. Now 
the contest is between fours, sixes and 
eights, with the two latter fast outstripping 
the former. 

On the whole, car performance will be 
found to be better than a year ago, and 
that, in the broadest sense, is what every- 
body buys. Comfort, economy, reliability, 
power and quietness of operation have 
been enhanced. 

Valve assemblies have been silenced, 
crankshafts have been stiffened, balancers 
have decreased vibration, springs have been 
balanced to balloon tires, brakes have re- 
duced collision hazard, and steering con- 
trol has very definitely increased motoring 
security. 

In presenting a pictorial array of the 
new cars here, an attempt has been made 
to include as many prices classes as possible 
and at the same time provide illustrations 
of the newest models which are attracting 
nation-wide attention. 

Besides the Stutz and Pontiac, outstand- 
ing models which are proving show sensa- 
tions are the Chn'sler Six, Rickenbacker 
Eight, Willys-Knight Six, Nash Advanced 
Six, Hupp Eight and Paige Six. 

Walter P. Chrysler’s new Imperial 
“80,” a larger, finer, faster six, was given 
its Los Angeles debut the same day that 
the New York show opened. It has a 
ninety-two horsepower engine with a 
speed range up to 80 miles an hour. Six 
body styles include roadster and phaeton 
of sport type, coupe, five and seven-passen- 
ger sedans and a sedan limousine. Rubber 
cushion clamps take the place of shackle 
bolts at the spring ends, increasing riding 
ease, and eliminating lubrication. 

Captain Eddie Rickenbacker says his 
new straight eight super-sport roadster is 
the fastest stock car in America. He de- 
clares he has driven it 97 miles an hour. 
It is mounted on the regular Rickenbacker 
eight chassis, has a 100-horsepower motor 



and is guaranteed to deliver 90 miles an 
hour, which probably makes it the fastest 
stock car in the world. The sedan shown 
here is powered with the same engine, 
equipped with two carburetors and nine 
main bearings. Shatter-proof glass is 
standard equipment. Safety is a prime 
factor in design and all the models are low 
and racy looking. 

The new Willys-Knight 6-70 is a lighter 
car with the smallest bore sleeve-valve en- 
gine ever built in this country, giving it an 
excess of power and snappy pick-up. It has 
safety four-wheel brakes, is long and low, 
and positively oiled through a specially de- 
signed pressure lubricating system. 

Nash announces the first closed car to 
have a motor built especially for a closed 
car, in his new Advanced Six. This newly 
designed “Closed Car Motor” is said to 
deliver the same rate of power per pound 
to move the heavier closed models, as for- 
mer motors exerted in propelling lighter 
open models, affording a smoothness and 
responsiveness never before achieved in 
closed car performance. 

Buick remains unchanged with closed 
cars leading in popularity. Chandler has 
bought out Cleveland and is showing new 
closed models, featuring the Chandler 
20th Century Sedan, and a Cleveland Spe- 
cial Six coupe, both equipped wfith one-shot 
lubrication. Oldsmobile has a new Utility 
Coupe and a Coach of smart appearance 
and medium prices with some new refine- 
ments. Locomobile Junior Eight recently 




Overlooking the Willamette Valley, 
Oregon 



introduced a new aristocratic looking coupe 
and a brougham, with that famous speed- 
way engine. Wills St. Claire looks like a 
thoroughbred, prepped for a sprint. Lines 
are low and rakish. 

The Ninety Degree Cadillac is the latest 
thing out in this line, and after Don Lee 
gets them, he adds distinctive custom 
touches in his own shops to fit the personal 
taste of his patrons. The Franklin “Series 
LI” is the only air-cooled car of national 
prominence, and Rupert Larson has proved 
repeatedly that this “Camel” can stand 
gruelling punishment almost indefinite. 
Studebaker is featuring a new Big Six 
Sport Roadster, the design of which was 
personally supervised by Paul G. Hoffman, 
who still calls Los Angeles “home” despite 
the fact that he is spending most of his 
time in South Bend, where he is said to 
have started a new era of pep among Stu- 
debaker workers. 

The Diana Eight and the Moon Six 
have proved popular throughout the past 
year, and while they do not build yearly 
models, their new cars are up to the minute 
in design and appointment, backed by a 
$75,000,000 group of specialists. 

Velie has somewhat jumped over the 
traces with the advent of their new “wind- 
splitting” sedan designed after the German 
idea, with long slanting windshield and 
bowed-out body back, a complete style 
change from former models. 

Jordan, as usual, is out in front with 
two sizes of line eights. He builds noth- 
ing else now, and is making friends every 
day with his policy of quality building 
along standard lines with advanced ideas 
of design and style. 

Kissel has a new all-year convertible 
coupe roadster which can be opened or 
closed according to the feel of the weather. 
This number ought to make many friends 
for them, for it is a tailored looking crea- 
tion of low, swift design. 

Marmon has established a special style 
department devoted entirely to building 
good looks into their cars that will make 
motor car “modistes” sit up and take 
notice. 

Sixes lead the parade in new announce- 
ments for the year with eights showing 
the greatest proportionate gain. There 
are five V-type eights, and sixteen straight 
eights for ambitious owners to conjure 
with. Only ten fours put in an appearance 
at the New York show. Henry Ford was 
conspicuous by his absence. His new mod- 
els are already much in evidence every- 
where and he is busy building airplanes 
and new engines for dirigibles. 



60 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



America’s Sweetheart (Continued from Page 41) 




The FOX 
SCARF 



harmonizing with every frock 
— so many places they can be 
worn — an indispensable part 
of every wardrobe — More 
popular than ever this spring. 



Many shades and qualities 
from which to choose. 




The ATELIER 



2126 West Seventh Street 

opposite Westlake Park 




upon this factor. They are working 
steadily upward in story and production 
quality to a climax that seems always just 
ahead. 

Many followers of the screen have felt 
that such a climax would arrive if she 
made a production with her husband, 
Douglas Fairbanks, in a co-star role. 
Countless rumors to the effect that such a 
venture was about to be made have gone 
the rounds, and finally a near-promise has 
been given by the stars to make the joint 
production in the immediate future. It is 
to be launched either during their stay 
abroad, or just after their return to Holly- 
wood. 

While there can be no doubt that a 
Pickford-Fairbanks co-star production 
would score a tremendous success from an 
entertainment point of view, no climax in 
the screen career of Mary Pickford will be 
reached thereby. She may go on from 
there, either in her own productions or with 
Mr. Fairbanks. Only one limitation will 
be imposed upon her by the public, and 
that is — she may not grow up! 

Countless news stories and magazine ar- 
ticles have told the screen lovers of the 
world about Mary Pickford’s daily mail. 
The great number of letters of apprecia- 



issue of The Motion Picture Director. 

The Wampas being composed exclusively 
of masculine publicists and advertisers, an- 
other organization having functions very 
similar has been created by the women pub- 
licity representatives and advertisers of the 
studios. This club is called Women’s As- 
sociation, Screen Publicists, or W.A.S.P.S., 
and its newly elected president is Elizabeth 
Reardon. 

The Masquers is a large and recently 
developed organization of screen actors 
and directors headed by one of the found- 
ers, Robert Edeson, whose title is not pres- 
ident but Harlequin. Other officers are 
named as follows: John Sainpolis, Pierrot; 
George E. Read, Croesus; Fred Esmelton, 
Ponchinello; Robert Schable, Pantaloon. It 
has a house committee, an entertainment 
committee, and a “Jesterate,” and its mot- 
to is, “We Laugh to Win.” 

This club is one of the most recently 
organized, having been founded on May 
12, 1925. After various social events with- 
in its membership, the first public revel, 
which is to be an annual event hereafter, 
was held at the Philharmonic Audtiorium 
on October 22nd, 1925. Entertainment is 
supplied entirely by the membership. 

At the Masquers clubhouse, 6735 Yucca 
street, Hollywood, the members foregather 
at all times of day and in all sorts of cos- 
tume and makeup, as, in New York, stage 
and screen players do at The Lambs. Be- 
sides the exchange of gossip and opinion, 



tion, letters asking advice, letters request- 
ing photographs and letters that only pour 
out the hearts of the writers has increased 
with the passing years. 

A thoroughly representative instance of 
this adoration that has enshrined Miss 
Pickford as “America’s Sweetheart” is 
given in the form of a present she received 
from Mrs. Helen Eckles, of San Diego, 
California. The gift was a set of seven 
large scrap books, containing newspaper 
and magazine clippings that covered the 
star’s film career from the time she became 
known to the public by name. 

This admirer of Mary Pickford has 
gathered the clippings contained in the 
scrap books from every newspaper and 
magazine she could obtain, and her first 
plan was to preserve the unique collection 
for herself. Years of admiration for the 
star finally culminated in a personal meet- 
ing in Hollywood, and as a result of this 
meeting, in the presentation of the scrap- 
books — a gift that money could not buy 
or duplicate. 

H er fame has grown, and continues to 
grow, but the charming matron, Mrs. 
Douglas Fairbanks, shall never reach ma- 
turity on the screen. She shall remain al- 
ways the little girl of “Annie Rooney” and 
of “Sparrows.” 



it is here that the entertainments are dis- 
cussed and plotted. The “prompter” in 
charge of entertainment has absolute com- 
mand over the two hundred screen-celeb- 
rity members, from whom he may pick his 
casts and production staffs for the next 
Masquers’ revel. 

The Troupers Club is another very re 
cently organized group, and one of the 
most interesting. Its primary requisite for 
membership is a formidable one: Thirty 
years in the theatrical profession on the 
stage or as manager! It was founded only 
a few months ago with nine members, and 
the membership is now nearing one hun- 
drer. The meetings, which are dinners, 
are called Rehearsals, and the officers are 
as follows : 

Stage Manager, Frank Norcross ; 
Prompter, Charles Thurston ; Call Boy, 
Palmer Morrison; Stage Doorkeeper, Fred 
Gambold. The members are called The 
Cast. 

The Two Thirty-Three Club is a Ma- 
sonic organization of actors and motion 
picture workers, with a large and influen- 
tial membership. Further information 
concerning this organization will be sup- 
plied under a department devoted to the 
Two Thirty-Three Club, in the next issue 
of The Motion Picture Director. The 
Screen Club is essentially a recreation and 
vacation club, with headquarters in the 
High Sierras at Lake Arrowhead, 



Fraternities of the Screen ( Continued from Page 58) 



19 26 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



61 




<C 



At Home to o ur Friends o f tile 
Si ver Sheet and the Location Lot 



Barker bros . are lidding 

(( open house 9 at the new residence m the Quality Center o f L OS 
Angeles shopping section. Ateinh ers o ftl le ALotion Picture family, 
heing o Id friends o ftl ns establishment, a very cordial invitation is 
hereby extended to yon to come and enjoy all that our new home has 
to oiler ol beauty, practical worth and trained, intelligent service. 
We are waiting to make you all truly (( at homeJ . 9 

BARKER BROS. 

Complete Furnishers of Successful Homes 
SEVENTH Street, Flower & Figueroa 






62 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



Announcement 



Frank E. Warren Inc., 
automotive finance and 
insurance company an- 
nounces the acquisition 
of Floyd V. Bennett, 
nationally known insur- 
ance counsellor to 
the personnel 

| | | 



We have acquired rep- 
resentation of every 
substantial insurance 
company and are now 
prepared and equipped 
to handle insurance in 
all its branches 

[[“WARREN -TEED INSURANCE ]1 
U MEANS PROPER PROTECTION” if 

Frank E. Warren Inc. 

6461 Sunset Boulevard 
Tel. GRanite 4780 

•> <* 

uC Phone for Qounsel ” 





Frank E. Warren 



The Man on the Cover 

(Continued, from Page 22) 

in pictures — is that he is always open to 
suggestions and new ideas. If you have 
any that are based on sound logic, are 
practical, commercially feasible or at least 
artistically unique, this man Brown will 
lend you an ear. 

H is wife is his constant companion. No- 
body who has ever met her twice could 
burden her with the formal dignity of 
Mrs. Clarence Brown. Ona Brown is a 
worthy helpmate to her husband — an in- 
spiration rather than an obstruction. She 
is always keyed to a high pitch of enthusi- 
asm about anything that her capable hus- 
band has accomplished or is about to ac- 
complish. Praise showered on Clarence 
Brown is praise twice showered on his 
wife. She has a business sense that is keen 
to the ’steenth degree. She is looking out 
for the welfare of Clarence Brown. She 
is a courageous and tireless champion of 
anything and everything that will tend to 
enhance and forward the cause of her hus- 
band. But she is not selfish. The home 
of the Browns is a quiet, happy retreat; 
a haven from the hurry and bustle of life. 
Here everybody is assured of a homey and 
democratic welcome. That is the spirit of 
the Brown chateau. 

Then there is Adrienne Ann Brown. 
Nine years of age. Wistful, childishly 
serious. Shy but pleasant. Adrienne has 
told her daddy that when she grows up 
she’s going to be a motion picture actress. 
Clarence says, “It’s up to her.” Just now, 
however, Adrienne is living the intoxicat- 
ingly joyous and fleeting years of childhood 
at Chevy Chase School in Washington, 
D.C. 

The Clarence Brown that tomorrow 
will carry to the heights of motion picture 
glory has been an industrious and serious 
apprentice. 

The strides he has made in his profes- 
sion are not only an indication of public 
recognition of one who knows his business 
but the crystallization of a faith and a -will- 
to-do that has seen many dark days before 
the light came. 

It is hard to develop enthusiasm about 
people in this business of up-today and 
down-tomorrow. Sometimes their mettle 
does not meet the test. We believe in 
Clarence Brown. You will, too. 



The Little Journey, a recent fiction 
success by Rachael Crothers, has been 
purchased by the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer 
studios for early screen production. 

Rachael Crothers is one of America’s 
best known fiction writers, having written 
various stories in the Saturday Evening 
Post and other magazines, as well as a 
number of successful novels. 




7 926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



63 



Architects to Exhibit 

r T~'HE first exhibition of the Architects 
X League of Hollywood, to be given at 
the Regent Hotel, starts February 8 and 
will continue for two weeks. This exhibi- 
tion will include not only architectural 
work, but work of the allied arts: mural 
painting, architectural sculpture, plastic 
work, iron work, landscape gardening, mo- 
tion picture sets, and architectural models. 

A dinner and entertainment to be given 
on the evening of February 5th at the 
Regent Hotel, precedes the formal opening 
of the exhibition. At this function, mem- 
bers of the League and the architects of 
Hollywood in general will be entertained. 



New Warner Theatre 

(Continued from Page 35) 

played an active part in the ground break- 
ing. Reading from left to right, they are : 
Leon Schlessinger, George Coffin, Holly- 
wood Chamber of Commerce ; Bennie 
Zeidman, associate executive, Warner 
Bros.; William Koenig, studio manager; 
E. T. Loew, Jr., scenarist; Jack Warner, 
production manager; Syd Chaplin, Harry 
C. Knox, Joe Toplitsky, Motley Flint, 
Mr. and Mrs. B. Warner, mother and 
father of the Warner brothers; Harry M. 
Warner, Ernst Lubitsch, Charley Well- 
man and J. Stuart Blackton. Back of them 
rises the artist’s conception of what the new 
theatre and home of KFWB will be like 
when completed. 



Chinese Theatre 

(Continued from Page 34) 

which the first excavation was made. 

Sid Grauman’s plans for the new the- 
atre are based on rearing what will in truth 
be a temple to the cinema and allied arts, 
a Chinese temple in which will be en- 
shrined the beauty, artistry and culture of 
the orient as the atmospheric background 
for the presentation of the best in music, 
drama, and cinematic achievement. From 
the entrance to the huge elliptical fore- 
court to the backdrop of the vast stage the 
Chinese motif will be carried out. Upon 
the completion of the structure one will, 
upon passing through a pagoda-like en- 
trance, find oneself virtually in the orient. 
This effect is to be heightened by the 
forty-foot wall which will surround the 
forecourt and effectually shut off the rest 
of the world for the time being. 



If you have an idea of interest to the 
motion picture industry write THE DIREC- 
TOR about it. 

Subscription rates to THE DIRECTOR 
are $2.50 per year. 




Rugs of Worth 

TN SELECTING rugs there should be consid- 
A ered these three points — service, beauty, au- 
thenticity. 

While we can recognize beauty, few of us can pass 
on the authenticity of an Oriental Rug. 

Service is very important, for rugs have to stand 
more wear than any other object in the room. They 
are ever in full view and their beauty must be 
sustained. 

The collection of Oriental and Chinese Rugs at 
the “California” combines the best obtainable 
from a service standpoint with the most intriguing 
in color and designs. 

And the prestige and reliability of the “Califor- 
nia” assure you of the authenticity of every rug 
you purchase here. 

Gafiformfc|fe^urtii|ure(2 

644.545 ^ A BROADWAY. 

Interior Decorators 





64 



THE 



MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 



qA SM ess age from 

Urury ffilaur SltiL 

■% 

twenty years I’ve 
T been mentally re- 
tf dressing the people 
with whom I have come 
in contact. At first it af- 
forded me a little idle 
amusement. Later I got a 
great kick out of visualiz- 
ing a friend dressed in a 
suit of clothes that I built 
for him in my mind. Some 
times I would fairly itch to 
tell him about it, and fi- 
nally it became an obses- 
sion with me. 

And then I found two 
other men . . . 

WILLIAM 

BEAUDINE 

and 

JOHN D. 
SCHULZE 

who like myself have for 
years been mentally build- 
ing clothes for their 
friends. So now we have 
today . . . 

DRURY LANE 

I am having the time of 
my life actually building 
clothes for my friends. You 
can take it for granted — 
you are cordially invited 
to come up to DRURY 
LANE — and I hope you’ll 
come — for I’d sure like to 
run a tape measure around 
you. 

You’ll like DRURY 
LANE ( its personnel is 
modest). You’ll enjoy its 
aristocratic atmosphere 
and dignified originality. 
Won’t you let us know 
when to exped you? We 
can smoke and chat and 
get acquainted. 

Estado ne Manana 
Sincerely, 

E. L. VALBRACHT 

IrurylCattpICtiL 

5404 i?irrra Uista Aurrnu' 
lliilUjanioi) 
ffiladBtmtr 1T36 

iflakrrfi of (Dutrr (Barmrntfi fur iRrn 



Motherhood and the Screen 

(Continued from Page 16) 



"I miss the faces beyond the footlights,” 
confessed a professional friend of mine who 
was dining at my home. “Somehow there’s 
a wave of feeling that sweeps back over 
the footlights when you send it out from 
you, and it gets the people out there. It 
comes back, and enters you, and you react 
to it by rising to greater heights. In pic- 
tures, it’s only the director, and a few 
cynical cameramen and property men, 
and — ” 

One of my girls heard this, and when 
the guest had departed, of course there 
were questions. . . . 

“Don’t you miss it, then, mamma?” she 
demanded. 

“No,” I was able to say with the utmost 
of conviction. The subject was, and is, 
one near to my heart. “No, dear, I do not 
miss the theatre audience.” Of course, I 
have not faced many theatre audiences. My 
experience in that line has been confined 
practically to amateur performances and 
personal appearances. But I truly feel in- 
spired when I face the camera, and I’ll 
tell you why. 

“Beyond the director and the camera- 
men, the property men and the sets, I seem 
to see and to feel a greater audience than 
any single theatre can hold. There’s a 
sea of intent faces: faces of men and women 
and children not only of our country, but 
of every country in the world. There 
are the folk of England, of Holland, of 
the Scandinavian countries; there are folk 
of the Orient, there are folk of all colors 
and races. Some are very, very poor, but 
it costs them little to see a picture in their 
country, and it brings them some happiness 



and light. Others are very rich and pow- 
erful — and perhaps the pictures they see 
will make them help the poor, and be 
kinder to everyone. 

“That is what I see and feel, and to me, 
it is more inspiring than any theatre audi- 
ence and its applause would be. You see, 
through the magic of the camera, it is now 
possible to spread happiness throughout 
the whole world, and it makes me very, 
very happy, and very, very proud to think 
that I can contribute my bit to the enter- 
tainment of that vast, wonderful audience.” 

Yes — in that thought I perceive justifi- 
cation for all struggle on the road to a 
screen career. To give the world, to give 
all humanity that added happiness and 
light, that beginning of universal under- 
standing and oneness of thought that may 
some day fuse the interests of mankind, is 
the mission of the motion picture. The 
privilege of making important contribu- 
tions to this cause is, I feel, the utmost 
reward, the highest pinnacle, the greatest 
attainment that a career can offer me. 
Combined with the things that, through 
screen work, I have been able to give to 
the children, the reward is great enough! 

If I did not believe I have been a good 
mother to the children, I would not be sat- 
isfied. If I did not believe that any mother 
who preserved the ideal of motherhood in 
her struggle for success on the screen could 
do equally well, in proportion to her suc- 
cess as an actress, I would not give such 
an optimistic message to other mothers 
who, perhaps, would like to enter motion 
pictures — if it were not for their children. 

If you like, enter motion pictures be- 
cause of the children! 



Norma Plays Kiki (Continued from Page 13) 



overdue rent she gambles her savings on 
the purchase of a second-hand wardrobe — 
with which to “break into the chorus.” 

In the office of theatre manager Renal, 
Kiki succeeds in securing a tryout, through 
which she marches with flying colors be- 
cause the song chances to be one with which 
she is familiar. 

A comedy sequence follows, in which 
Kiki makes her debut and in trying to 
fake dancing as she had faked singing, 
collides with Paulette, the featured dancer, 
and after a violent kick from that lady, 
sails through the air and lands sitting in 
the bass drum of the orchestra! 

Baron Rapp, the villain, enters the plot 
here. In the screen version he is a more 
active villain than on the stage, and has 
a very good part. Paulette is presented as 
Renal’s sweetheart, Kiki comes between 
them, and thereafter lively fighting that 
arrives at the hair-pulling stage ensues. 
The intervals between the battles are filled 
with intrigue, in which Paulette excells. 



Kiki’s well-remembered cataleptic fit, 
stimulated as a trump card in her endeavor 
to keep Paulette and Renal from driving 
her from the latter’s house, is an outstand- 
ing feature of the screen version. ’Tis 
here that George K. Arthur as the servant, 
Adolphe, is given the opportunity for a 
choice bit of action in kissing Kiki. If 
one pretends to be in that rigid condition, 
and helpless, how can one prevent one’s 
self from being kissed? 

Renal, of course, rescues her at the criti- 
cal moment, and Kiki comes out of her 
“fit” with a bound, to throw herself into 
his arms and kiss him, much to his delight. 

What a role! Will Miss Talmadge 
enhance her own and “Kiki’s” fame 
through its portrayal? 

I am inclined to think that she will, and 
if so, I hope that Norma will give us 
other plays of that order, and not let 
“Kiki” stand as a solitary example of that 
remarkable combination — a powerful screen 
individuality and true versatility. 




1926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



65 



Bride of the Storm 

(Continued from Page 19) 

with interest, he tips his cap and says, “I 
beg your pardon. I’m all wet.” There 
is certainly nothing “wet,” to resort to the 
vernacular, about Harron’s performance in 
this picture. It is easily the best of his, 
for one so young, long screen career, which 
is saying quite a bit. 

Faith is at once attracted by Dick’s neat 
white uniform and the cheerful honesty of 
his face and he by her strange position, her 
poor clothes, her suppressed loveliness, and 
her starved eagerness for companionship, 
understanding and love. 

From this is evolved a delightful situa- 
tion masterfully treated, a clandestine 
courtship under the most trying conditions, 
and without the benefit of language. Some 
of these scenes are positively unsurpassed 
for simple sincerity, pure sweetness, and 
gentle humor delicately and tastefully de- 
lineated. 

From this point things move swiftly to 
a climax. Piet has sent for Mynheer Tom, 
a renegade parson, justice, etc. and plots 
with him to marry Faith himself. Faith 
conveys the news to Dick and after his 
commander has refused to intervene he gets 
back to the island that night by a clever 
ruse just in time to interrupt the ceremony. 
A terrible fight takes place, Hans hacks the 
supports from beneath the lighthouse and 
fires it. Dick and Faith escape in the 
nick of time. This last part is particu- 
larly spectacular and thrilling. The splen- 
did photography under difficult and adverse 
conditions and the unusual and startlingly 
effective nightmare sequences are a credit 
to Nick Musuraca. Victor Vance is re- 
sponsible for the appropriately atmospheric 
art titles. 

“Bride of the Storm’’ contains the most 
masterful and interesting psychological 
study of the action, reaction, and inter- 
action of the minds of the four sinister 
figures of Jacob, Piet, Hans, and Mynheer 
Tom and of Faith and Dick of any pic- 
ture since D e Mille’s “Whispering 
Chorus.” So artfully are the effects of the 
various minds upon one another brought 
out, emphasized, and presented that the 
interplay and conflict grips one more power- 
fully than the most striking and thrilling 
of action scenes. The multi-colored threads 
of the various characters are woven into 
the fabric of the picture in a lucid but 
complicated and delicate design, logical, co- 
herent, convincing which is a satisfaction 
not only to the initiated creator of pictures 
but to the layman in search of entertain- 
ment. This is character building of the 
highest degree. 

Commodore Blackton has carved in 
strange and exquisite style a beautiful 
cameo, faithful to the immutable laws of 
life and human nature, fashioned from 
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66 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



February 




Lining up for the land rush which opened up the Indian Territory to settlers. 



Three Bad Men In The World Of Promise (Continued from Page 38 ) 



these picture necessities, and a separate 
crew of forty men was used in building 
the tent city wherein the cast of the pro- 
duction and Director John Ford’s staff 
were housed. 

With the completion of the sets and liv- 
ing quarters, the business manager of the 
location notified the home studio office that 
everything was in readiness for the pro- 
ducing unit. Then came the problem of 
transporting the company to the location. 

Motor vehicles were engaged by the 



score to move the actors from Victorville, 
California, the last railway point, to the 
location, fifty miles into the Mojave desert. 
Huge motor parlor cars, especially equip- 
ped with high-powered engines, were in- 
cluded in the great automobile train. The 
caravan of cars stretched out for nearly a 
mile when the last car was loaded and 
started on its way into the desert. 

On the Mojave desert location every 
imaginable enterprise existed — beauty par- 
lors, barber shops, candy stores, shoe 



stores, clothing stores, ice cream parlors, 
doctors’ offices, dentists’ offices, a horse- 
shoer’s establishment, a garage and a sep- 
arate post office. One dozen deputy sher- 
iffs from San Bernardino county were de- 
tailed to supervise the camp, and maintain 
law and order. This was a necessary step 
because of the large number of people 
camped together. 

Such are a few of the problems which 
enter into the bringing of the old, rugged 
west before the eyes of a modern public. 



The Follies Girl On The Screen (Continued from Page 13) 



ing your movements, of a score of stage 
tricks, was of aid. 

I arrived in Hollywood a little more 
than a year ago. And as this is written I 
have just finished playing my first leading 
part. I appear opposite Buck Jones in 
“The Fighting Buckaroo,” for Fox Films. 

That is what my Follies training has 
done for me. 

It brought me a part, a small part but 
nevertheless an opportunity to appear be- 
fore the camera, just four days after I 
arrived. It was my connection with the 
Foil ies that got me into Jack Warner’s 
office the day after my arrival and he gave 



me work at once. I played a cloakroom 
girl in a picture in which Dorothy Mack- 
aill played the lead, “The Bridge of 
Sighs.” Dot played her first Follies en- 
gagement in New York in a company in 
which I had a big part and I played my 
first bit in pictures in a company in which 
she played the lead. Odd, isn’t it? 

From then on I was kept busy most of 
the time. I was under contract to Rudolph 
Valentino for three months, to play oppo- 
site him in a picture which was never made. 
I think that the excitement of a big chance 
like that has gotten into my blood. Just a 
few months after my arrival here I was 



scheduled to play opposite one of the most 
popular stars of today in a big production. 
Then I didn’t. I sit home now, between 
pictures, waiting for the telephone to ring 
and not knowing what to expect when I 
pick up the receiver. It may be a gossip- 
ing friend, or a call to world-wide fame. 
On the stage one starts the season and 
after the first night there is no new thrill, 
nor chance of overwhelming success. In 
pictures, one never knows. Every few 
weeks there is a new chance. A tiny bit 
may develop during the making of a pic- 
ture to a part that will bring fame. This 
is the life. I’ll never go back to New \ ork. 



The Jewel Ballet from “The Midnight Sun” (Continued from Page 33) 



In its final development the action of 
this scene takes place in a grotto of jewels, 
about the throne of the King of Gems. 
Before him pass in review the personifica- 
tion of precious stones and metals, only the 
highlights of which can be shown in the 
black and white illustrations. 



Miss O’Neill is another of the ever- 
increasing group of stage artisans to turn 
her attention exclusively to the screen. Her 
work as designer of some of the most nota- 
ble costuming effects of the Ziegfeld Follies 
attracted her to the attention of Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer for whom she came to 



Hollywood to do costumes for “The Merry 
Widow” and “Ben Hur” as well as cos- 
tumes for Norma Talmadge’s “Graustark.” 
She is now designing costumes for the pic- 
turization of “The Prince of Pilsen”, for 
Belasco Productions. 



1926 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



67 



Capitalizing Opportunity 

(Continued, from Page 23) 

director over to a conviction that the son 
of an important figure in the show world 
was sincere in his desire to succeed on his 
own merits was not easy, but Considine 
convinced him by a very simple method — 
demonstration. 

Now that he had made the first step, 
he did not lose sight of his ambition to 
become Joseph Schenck’s secretary. He 
had not, however, mentioned the fact to 
Mr. Schenck. It was sheer coincidence 
that brought about the culmination of this 
plan, and much sooner than he had antici- 
pated. A secretary who had been with 
the producer for twelve years suddenly left 
his employ, and Considine’s personality 
having impressed Mr. Schenck, the latter’s 
first thought was to transfer the young 
man into this position if he were willing; 
at least until someone else was available. 

At last — the opportunity to demonstrate 
the art he had learned by observing the 
prince of secretaries! His expectations and 
ambitions were realized. Within a short 
time he had made himself indispensable. 

“Whatever else I may, or may not, be 
able to lay claim to,” Mr. Considine de- 
clares, “I did make good as a secretary.” 

He put all the initiative he possessed into 
the exacting task. Being secretary to such 
an active and important person as Mr. 
Schenck was a test indeed ; the many and 
diversified interests of the producer called 
into play all the executive qualities latent 
in young Considine — all the diplomacy, the 
decision, the grasp of detail he could bring 
to bear. 

An opportunity to prove his executive 
ability and generalship of detail to Mr. 
Schenck yet more convincingly, came when 
the latter was planning a trip to Europe. 
It had not been his intention to take Con- 
sidine along, but he chanced to remember 
that he spoke French and had lived in Eu- 
rope. On being offered the chance of ac- 
companying his employer, the young pri- 
vate secretary accepted eagerly. Europe 
meant little to him after several trips and 
periods of residence there, but the chance 
of greater intimacy with Schenck, and a 
greater opportunity to serve him, was more 
than attractive. 

He managed the trip so well that very 
shortly after their return he became man- 
ager of the Norma Talmadge company. 

Two and a half years ago he was made 
general manager of the Schenck Produc- 
tions, a position he still holds. In addition, 
he is now an associate producer. He made 
“Wild Justice,” with Peter the Great, the 
police dog star, in the central role; another 
of his productions is “The Eagle,” star- 
ring Rudolph Valentino. Both are United 
Artists releases. 

In 1921 John W. Considine, Jr., a 



young man not only anxious but deter- 
mined to “get along,” took stock of his 
assets and made his plans. Four years later 
we find him in one of the most active and 
responsible executive positions in the motion 
picture industry. 

He says that as he reviews his progress 
during those four years, he realizes that 
“the breaks were all for me!” That, he 
modestly explains, accounts for the speed 
of his climb. 

In our opinion Considine was not ex- 
traordinarily lucky. “Breaks?” Of course. 
Everyone has them, for and against indi- 
vidual progress. But John Considine was 
on his toes to take advantage of the good 
breaks, to halt the bad ones before they 
could do any harm. He knew what he 
wanted, why, and how to go about getting 
it. Then he went after it. 

That’s how those things are done. 



Memories of Yesteryear 

(Continued from Page 52) 

chatty talk, “The Bride of the Storm” 
came on the screen, it was with a feeling 
of genuine appreciation of the dignity and 
beauty of the eighth art that we saw un- 
fold before us James Francis Dwyer’s 
story, “Maryland, My Maryland,” from 
which the picture was adapted. 



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68 



THE MOTION PICTURE DIRECTOR 



F ebruary 



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COMMUNITY 

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Open Door 

(Continued from Page 2) 

presence, but they entertained us with stor- 
ies of the fun and sorrows of work in a 
moving picture company. All of us from 
the Captain down had the time of our 
lives and are looking forward to a return 
visit. 

L. J. Kehoe, 

Chief Yeoman, U.S.N. 



Editor, 

The Motion Picture Director: 

Carl van Vechten’s “The Tattooed 
Countess” has just arrived in my town as 
“A Woman of the World” with Pola 
Negri in the title role. Pola is good, and 
the picture, as a picture, is such a great im- 
provement over her “Flower of the Night” 
that the contrast makes it a masterpiece. 
Let it be understood, then, that I have no 
quarrel with the photoplay itself; it is 
good workmanship throughout, and pre- 
sents the star as only two of her pictures, 
“Passion” and “Forbidden Paradise,” have 
done. 

My quarrel is with the linking of the 
name of a book by a well-known author 
with a story that bears practically no re- 
lationship to it. I will not say that the 
story which appeared was not as good, for 
picture use, as Van Vechten’s unpuctuated 
novel. Perhaps it was better. But why 
credit the author? Why tire out the spec- 
tator who comes to the show for enter- 
tainment, with the task of matching a story 
he has read with the story that unfolds on 
the screen? He looks in vain for certain 
fiction characters, and discovers others 
totally new to him ; in the few familiar 
ones he sees, he meets new personalities 
who confuse him with traits and story func- 
tions utterly foreign to his memory of 
them a la Van Vechten. 

A director I ensnared with my tale of 
woe tells me that the censors are respon- 
sible. If so, a bas le censors! And if 
they aren’t to be a bas-ed, by any possible 
means, let’s have stories that do not have 
to be censored, or stories built from the 
ground up and given to the public sight- 
unseen. Not by Mr. Hergesheimer, who 
is alleged to have perpetrated “Flower of 
the Night,” but by the capable man, 
woman or collaborators who authored the 
film “A Woman of the World,” — and let 
them be unhampered by the necessity of 
preserving in part a few characters or situa- 
tions created by a novelist. 

Having no inclination to write scenarios, 
I do not advocate my favorite star appear- 
ing in a masterpiece of mine. Box office 
investment of time and money alone im- 
pells me respectfully to suggest stories by 
studio staff authors — good studio staff 
authors. If censors or the limitations of 
the screen make a fairly true reproduction 
of a novel or play impossible, let the studio 
men create our entertainment. Cordially, 

M.E.R. 



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